I'm not a stalker, PROMISE!
by ScarletChase
Summary: The story of a lovestruck fangirl, writing modeled after SM --sorry-- who follows a whim and goes on an adventure to win Rob Pattinson's heart. TOTAL fluff and ridiculously cheesy! But if you love Rob, it might be for you!
1. Dream

I stared up into his grey-green eyes, my heart pounding as his strong hand gripped my shoulders. Dizzy, the ground swayed beneath me. The smell of cigarettes hung thick in the air as he leaned closer in. Taking the plunge, I stretched upward—closing the gap between our faces. Our lips met, softly parting and moving in gentle circular motions. My stomach flipped and flopped as I paused to take in the wonder of the moment. He pulled away and looked questioningly into my eyes—searching for the cause of my sudden withdrawal. I smiled and we were back to kissing, molding our mouths to each other's. a faint musical tinkling surrounded us, a melodic bell insistently ringing. The music grew louder as our kisses became rougher, harder. I pressed my body into his, he wound his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. The music was now unbearably loud, too hard to ignore. In an instant we were unwound from each other, I stood plainly in front of him as he answered his cell phone, he glanced quickly at me as he turned and walked away—talking into his phone in his brisk British manner.

I started, looking up at the familiar walls and ceiling that comprise my room. My sheets were wound tight around me, my pillow relocated to the floor. Across the room on my desk, my cell phone was still ringing. In a wave of reality I realized my lovely make-out session with Rob Pattinson had been a dream. Sighing, I extracted myself from my bed sheets and raced to answer my phone. Too late—already gone to voicemail and blinking "1 Missed Call," I grabbed it and sank back onto my bed, trying to remember every detail of my wonderful dream. It had felt so real, played with all my senses, but of course, only in my dreams would someone like Rob consider kissing someone like me. I dejectedly stared at myself in the mirror and made faces at myself. My light brown hair was flat and straight, hanging lankily past my shoulders. My skin was pale, but in no way pristine, with bright pink cheeks dotted with freckles. My light caramel eyes were round and fringed with dark lashes. I exhaled and blew my cheeks out, I looked utterly normal. The essence of plain. The sort of pretty that is unnoticed, and not even pretty. In the real world, Rob Pattinson would never even look at me. He'd be way to busy in his world of glamorous parties, bubbling champagne and leggy blonde models to see me. Plus, he was about 400 miles away in sunny L.A. while I froze in foggy San Francisco.


	2. The Whim

"Audrey

"Audrey! Guess what!?' My best friend, Genie Gonzalez bounded down the street toward me.

"What!?" I yelled back at her as I stood by the bus stop.

"I got a car!" She shrieked, and tacked me with a mammoth hug.

"What? Wait, seriously?" I was dumbfounded. Genie and I had always taken the bus together everywhere due to our parents' condemnation of teenage driving.

"Yeah! It's new and everything. Toyota Prius; gotta reduce my carbon footprint, you know?" She was bubbling over with excitement, jumping haphazardly up and down.

"Um ok? Wait HOW?" I was still confused by Mr. and Mrs. Gonzalez's quick change of heart.

"Well…you know how I've been working more?" She began with an eager look in her eye. "Well, I haven't spent ANYTHING I've made for the last two years. And with savings and birthday money and stuff like that, I've made 15,000!" She announced, clearly proud.

"Whoa…15,000?" I asked in sheer disbelief.

"Yeah, anyway, they said they were really proud of me so they said they would match what I've made and I can do what I want with the money." She continued, spewing her story in a rush. "So I bought a car! And I still have, like, 5,000 left!"

"Wowowowoowooow!!" It slowly dawned on me how this would change our lives. Instead of building in 1½ hours to go across town, it would take half the time. Instead of opting to stay at home due to a lack of a ride, I would stay out all night.

"I know, right!? C'mon let's go drive somewhere!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the street.

"There it is!" she proclaimed gesturing toward a shiny mint green Prius. I hopped in and took in the smooth leather interior and delicious new car smell.

"Omigod, Genie, this car is great!" I told her as she smoothly maneuvered onto the road. "It doesn't make any noise!"

"Yeah, it's super quiet. Wait, so where do you wanna go?" She asked me, as she turned on whiny country music.

"Umm, well I was on my way to Walgreen's..." I offered. After the first verse lamented the death of the singer's dog, I plugged my ipod into the stereo system. "Yeah none of this country music Genie, we gotta go crazy for the debut of yo scraperr!" I busted out my hood accent, and bumped some serious Bay Area rap.

" Wow you're such a loser, Aud. Love you!" Genie rolled her eyes at my gangsta façade. "Ok, here we are! Walgreen's awaits!"

"Whew! Crazy ride!" I joked as we headed into my favorite Walgreen's. I headed straight to grab some shampoo and conditioner, before grabbing a basket to mill around. Walgreen's was one of my favorite stores. It had everything. Plus, you can walk out of Walgreen's with a handful of birthday cards, candy, lotion and magazines for under 20- my kinda store. One time, I bought myself pajama bottoms from Walgreen's and wore them to a Sweet Sixteen Slumber Party—after that night, I realized not everyone had the special connection I had with Walgreen's. Genie and I dabbled at the cosmetics counter, testing out the cheap lipstick shades and spraying the ten-dollar perfume before moving on to the pies-de-resistance, the magazine display. This magazine display was reason why the Walgreen's on the corner of Geary Blvd and Spruce St was my favorite. It was a full wall, divided by 4 shelves. Layer after layer of magazines were piled upon one another. Canary yellow headlines screamed out, only to be challenged by hot pink bylines. The Economist stood stoically next to Good Housekeeping, GQ paired by Star! Newspapers flanked the bevy of magazines, while pornos were discreetly piled beneath them. I stared at the onslaught of pure American Media, enraptured by the glossy covers and brightly colored words. As my eyes browsed the shelf, looking for a suitable magazine, one rag stood out at me. In bold green letters positioned over a grid of photos it announced, "New Celebrity Couples!" I gazed at it briefly, before steering my attention to the latest Vanity Fair. Then something registered. I quickly turned to look at the tabloid again. There, in the bottom left photo, was a picture of a car, with two people. A man and a woman. The woman had long chestnut hair and stunning features, she was driving. The man, had mussed up hair and a scruffy beard, he was wearing a grimy plaid shirt. But his face. I couldn't take my eyes away. Although half hidden by the beard and dull lighting, I instantly recognized him. Robert Pattinson was staring me down again. This time with a vacant look in his face, but with the same grey-green eyes. I reached out for the magazine and impatiently flipped through it, looking for the cover story. There he was again, this time sporting a tan blazer and a black v-neck t-shirt. He was smiling at me. I felt my heart rate increase slightly, and a goofy smile spread on my face. I gawked at his picture, not bothering to read the caption underneath, mentioning some nonsense of him being involved with the girl in that babysitting horror movie. I suddenly remembered my dream and realized it was fate.

"Genie! Let's go somewhere!" I suddenly turned to her.

"Uh, ok. Like, where?" She looked at me nonplussed.

" Let's go to L.A. Let's go on a road trip!" I suggested hysterically. My face broke into a maniacal grin.

"Actually, that sounds like a good idea! I mean, it IS summer. And I DID just buy myself a car! Wait, let's go next week!" She started getting excited as she thought through the idea of a spontaneous trip to Los Angeles.

"Ok! Take me home! I'm going to go clear it with the parentals, except…let's go tomorrow!"

"Yeah! Oh my parent's will be down!! They're having friends come in two days, so they definitely didn't want me home! Oh my god, it's a plan!"

We sped back to my house and I dashed in to talk to my parents.

"Mom! Dad! Can you guys talk?" I yelled into the hallway as I slammed the front door. Muffled replies came from two corners of the house. My parents were never together anymore. They seemed to spend as much time apart as physically possible while living in the same house. I sauntered into the kitchen, formulating my strategy for asking them. They came in just as I was pouring myself a glass of water.

"Hey honey, what is it?

"Audrey! How was your day?"

My parents asked me simultaneously. I turned around and gave them my best daughter smile.

"Today was good. Guess what? Genie invited me to go to her cousin's house in L.A. Can I go?" I looked at them hopefully, but careful not to sound overeager.

"Well, how old is Genie's cousin? And how will you get there? Are her parents driving you?" My mom asked, trying to pin down my story.

"Yeah, of course they'll be driving us! It's kinda like, a family reunion, and Genie's cousins are our age, so it'll be fun." I looked straight into my mom's eyes, trying to ooze innocence.

"Sounds fine to me," my dad interjected with an absent smile on his face. My mom wasn't so easily convinced.

"Well, how long will you be there? Are you sure her mother is ok with this?"

"Umm, its just for like, I think 5 days. Not long at all. And her mom's totally cool with it, she invited me! I ran into them at Walgreen's funnily enough." I padded and padded my story until it couldn't get anymore wholesome.

"Well, I guess it's ok. Just be sure to call and check in with us." My mom reluctantly gave me permission.

My heart soared as I scrambled from the kitchen to pack my bags. I took the stairs two at a time, no three at a time, closing the distance between the landing and my room in less than a second. Doing a little dance, I quickly dialed Genie's number.

"Hello?"

"Genie!! YAY I can go!" I shrieked into the phone, ecstatic.

"Really? Oh my gosh this is going to be so much fun! My parents were fine with it to! What'd you tell them?"

"I said we were staying at your cousin's. What'd you tell yours?'

She chuckled, "the same thing."

"Ok, so when are we leaving?" I asked into the phone.

"Ummm, how about…11? That way we can get there by like, 6:30ish," she calculated.

"Ok, perfect! I'll see you at 11 tomorrow!" I dropped the phone on my floor and hurried over to my closet. My drab wardrobe was perfect for San Francisco weather, but it seemed bleak for the sunshine of Southern California. It was going to have to do. I grabbed all my brightest clothes, my cutest tank tops, my shortest shorts, my frilliest dresses. As the pile on my bed grew higher, I realized I had nothing to wear for nighttime. I searched worriedly through my closet but found little that screamed "Sex!" or even, "Whore!" Frustrated, I stole into my sister's room to scrounge. My sister was three years younger than me, but sometimes her clothes fit me, and looked strangely sexy. After hunting around the 14 year old's mess, I came up with one black tank top studded with stars. It was perfect. Pure club attire. I couldn't think why she would even own something like that. I was ready. My bags were packed, my spare cash tucked away in my purse, my newly acquired checkbook stowed next to the emergency credit card my dad gave me last year. I was ready for an adventure!


	3. The 101

The wind whipped my hair around my face, burning my cheeks, the whopping drowning out Genie's cheesy country music. Our bags stored in the backseat, Genie's mint green Prius zipped down highway 101. I smiled as the sun broke through the clouds and I was forced to put on my sunglasses. Having already stopped at three different Starbucks, we vowed not to stop until after we got through Grapevine. Our goal rapidly approaching, and the sun rapidly sinking, I realized we didn't have anywhere to sleep that night.

"Uhh, Genie? We haven't booked a room at a hotel yet, have we?" I asked her.

"Oh! Yeah! Um…well, where in L.A. do you think we should stay?" She glanced at me with a worried look on her face.

"Well, let's stay somewhere near a bunch of clubs." I suggested.

"Ok, where's the club part of L.A?"

"Um, well I've never been to L.A. the city, only like, Anaheim and Newport.""

"Me neither." I looked at Genie in horror. We stared at each other, eyes wide, mouths hanging open as we realized the stupidity of our actions. "So, we don't have a place to stay, and we have no clue where we're going?" She clarified.

"Shit!" I bit my thumb and stared out at the coastline flashing by. Cars whizzed past us as the digital clock ticked. The silence was tangible, it hung in the air of the small car. We both sat, trying to figure a way out our silly situation. "Maybe we should stop somewhere and ask for hotel recommendations," I offered.

"Yeah, that's a really great idea. Let's stop at some random gas station full of creepers and ask them to find us a hotel," she shot back at me, her eyes livid. I could tell she was angry.

"Ok, well let's get to L.A. and see what there is in the way of upstanding citizens?" I asked, trying to keep the peace.

"Fine." She stared straight ahead, gripping the wheel of her new car.

The moon was out by the time we pulled into the parking lot of the Four Season's Hotel. Dusk hovered in the warm summer evening. Soft grey shadows played off the swanky hotel's lighting, muted gold glowed from within. The heady scent of honeysuckle saturated the air as we stalked up to the concierge booth.

"Hi, me and my friend, we're from San Francisco, we were wondering if you knew of anywhere to stay for a few nights here in L.A?" Genie asked the stocky uniformed attendant.

"Well, the Four Seasons is not entirely full tonight. We can find you ladies a room." The man rapidly typed numbers and letters into his computer.

"Um, this hotel is a little out of our price range. We're thinking more like, under 100 a night, and close to some nightclubs." Genie smiled at him as she leaned across the granite counter. Her low-cut tank top worked wonders, as the concierge glanced around swiftly and tilted towards Genie.

"If you try the Palazzio, it's on the corner of West and 8th. They usually have free rooms, and it's very close by. Their rooms usually go for about, 70-80 a night, but they are a nicely run motel." The small man handed us a map and circled our destination, quickly giving us directions.

I flashed him a smile and Genie winked flirtatiously.

"Thanks!" We chirped in unison, and dashed back to our car.

The Palazzio Motel, as it turned out, was not the sleazy dump we expected it to be, although its coral and teal color scheme did give us pause. Our room was neat and orderly, the beds were clean, and the closet afforded plenty of space. By the time we were settled, it was nearly 9 o'clock, and I was dying to change into something comfortable. We changed into our PJ's, and hopped onto the beds. They dipped and bounced as I rocked on my heels, stretching my cramped legs. The pizza we ordered came via hot delivery boy, and I batted my eyelashes at him as he handed me the extra large pepperoni. We dug into our feast, devouring the cheesy goodness and washing it down with Genie's favorite- hot water. Fed and watered, I curled up into a ball and let sleep wash over me. Mellow indie-rock played faintly as I dozed off, my thoughts full of the day to come. Tomorrow, I would find him. I hadn't told Genie the reason for my sudden desire to come to L.A. in the heat of July. I hadn't confessed my dream the other night, nor had I explained to her the goals I had set for this trip. I wanted to meet Rob Pattinson. I wanted to bask in his British sexiness, soak up his dorky smile, play with his tangled hair. Even to myself I sounded like a crazed fangirl, but I couldn't deny the frenzied jump in my heart rate when I thought of his chiseled features. I wanted to see them for real life. I knew that neither film nor photo could ever truly capture his perfection-I had to see it for myself. I hugged myself tight as I daydreamed the possible ways of running into him on the street, at the grocery store, accidentally-on-purpose right outside the set of his new movie. Tomorrow, Genie was going to find out just how obsessed I had become over this actor, and she had better help me get him.


	4. The Save

The sun warmed every part of my body, toes to fingers, as it spread across the small hotel room. Slanted rays shone through the widely spaced blinds, creating a pattern on checkerboard carpet. I smiled as I stretched my arms wide and sighed in relaxation, still keeping my eyes tightly shut. With a gigantic yawn I sat up, raking in the glory of the California sun. From our window I had a lovely view of a dingy alley, with a wondrous dumpster attracting all sorts of creatures. The heat already hanging in the air, I glanced at the clock-9:30 am. I ran across the room, pulling the window open to let some air into our greenhouse. The air stagnated. The slight breeze created by my sudden action died in the still air. I scratched my head, which prompted an itch on my leg, then one on my shoulder. The arid atmosphere crackled around me.

_Well, at least it's a dry heat_. I thought to myself. Turning around, I tried to appreciate the little hotel room. The twin beds had been comfortable enough, a little small and bouncy, but nothing a some yogilates couldn't cure. Spying Genie sprawled across her bed, I bounded over to her, trying to make as much noise humanly possible. She stirred, mumbling something into her pillow about aardvarks.

"Genie! Wake up! We're in L.A. We're here to party! Let's party!" I attacked her, ripping her pillow from underneath her iron grip and swatting her over the head.

Groaning, she opened one eye and glared at me.

"Are you kidding?" she croaked, "It's only 9:30- we're on vacation!"

This didn't deter me, I didn't want to waste a moment until I found Rob. There was still so much to do.

"yeah, well we gotta make the most of it! Ok, I'm going to take a shower and when I'm done you better be up!" I ordered her, sounding eerily like my mother. She mumbled incoherently in response as I grabbed my bag of supplies and ran into the bathroom.

The small nook that was advertised as a luxurious bathroom filled with steam as I turned the knobs. I washed my hair thoroughly, using my favorite shampoo. It was some scent promising to "make the boys go crazy" and it lightly reminded me of strawberries. Legs shaved, hair conditioned, I stepped out of the shower squeaky clean. I doused my legs and arms in lotion, recalling the same strawberry scent before moving on to my hair. Lifeless as my hair was, it took tremendous effort to make it voluminous. I combed and teased, flipping my head upside down as the hair dryer dried from my tips to my roots. With that complete, I wrapped the pilling towel tightly around me and strode back into the bedroom.

Genie sat cross legged on the bed, rifling though a combined pile of her and my clothes. Her unruly black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, clearly indicating she wasn't wasting any more precious time with a shower.

"Hey lovely, so how hot do you think it's going to be today?" She asked me as she studied the mess on the bed. "Warm enough for these?" She pulled my pair of pinstriped shorts from the mass of clothing.

"Definitely. Wait! Help me figure out what to wear." I plucked through the heap, grabbing a hot pink flowy top and tan linen short shorts. "Do you think this is ok?"

She barely glanced at the outfit before nodding curtly. Genie wasn't much help with clothes. I usually helped her figure out her daily apparel, although looking good wasn't much of a challenge for her. 5'8" and model thin, Genie rarely looked awkward in her clothes—It was just a matter of matching colors and fabrics. I, on the other hand, didn't have it quite so easy. Just barely 5'3" and a little more substantial, I had to actually think how clothing would fit me. An avid _What Not To Wear_ watcher, I had learned along time ago what sort of silhouettes and fits I needed to sport in order to flatter my figure. It still took plenty of energy, and it was painful to watch Genie just throw anything on and still look completely fabulous. Sighing, I tried my outfit on. It looked alright, the shirt could've come in slightly at the waist to make me look a bit slimmer, but it would do.

"How's this look?" I asked warily, tugging at the shorts and pulling at the shirt.

"Oh my gosh, SOO cute!" She exclaimed.

I winced as I saw her in my pinstriped shorts. They were incredibly short and much looser on her than they were on me. I quickly did my makeup—the standard eyeliner, mascara and foundation I wore daily.

"Ok ready?" I asked her. I grabbed my purse, slid my oval sunglasses over my hair and walked toward the door.

"Yeah!" She reached for her bag and slumped off the bed.

"So where are we going?" She asked as we headed down the hallway.

"Um, well…I don't really know. I kinda had a plan for this whole week though." I smiled at her mischievously as her eyes narrowed and she regarded me suspiciously down her nose.

"Yes, and that plan would be..?"

"So you know Rob Pattinson?" I prompted her with a smile. My heart jumped to my throat even as I said his name. "The guy who played Cedric, and he's going to be in Twilight?" I offered her.

"Yeah, what about him?" She looked at me warily.

"Well, I think we should stalk him." I answered her nonchalantly as we skulked toward the car in the blazing sunlight. She stopped behind me as I waited by the car door.  
"You know, find out where he lives, where he's working, and then kinda run into him." I continued in my matter-of-fact voice.

"And you know, if something happens, something happens. I mean, I don't have any illusions but you never know, it could be fate. We could be meant to be togeth— "

Genie interrupted my dreamy rambling.

"Hoooold up. You want to stalk this poor guy, then throw yourself at him, and you want me to just sort of follow you around?" She looked at me like I was insane.

"Umm, yeah." I gave her my biggest cheesy grin but my stomach twisted in worry-knots.

"Well that's a little selfish. Don't I get a guy too?"

A wave of relief passed over me—she was totally going to help. It really was going to be an adventure.

"Oh don't worry, Rob has many friends." I assured her with a confident smile.

"Rob? You call him Rob? You don't know him and you call him by his nickname?" She teased me as the little Prius started to hum to life.

"It's better than calling him the things the other girls call him. He tried to get people to call him Spunk Ransom for awhile, pshh." I informed her, sounding like an obsessed fan to my own ears.

"Ok, whatever. So how should we track him down? What's he working on right now?" She asked me as we pulled to a stoplight.

"Um, well says all his films are in post-production. So I think he's just sort of hitting the club scene right now." I sounded like a guidebook for overeager teen girls.

"Ok, that's really helpful, Aud. What about friends? What other celebrities does he hang out with? Where in L.A. has he been spotted recently?" She peppered me with question after question, sounding like a hardened professional celeb stalker.

"Well, he was recently spotted with Camilla Belle," I reported in a newscaster voice. "Lately, he's been caught with her at many nightclubs and at a few coffee shops in Beverly Hills."

"Wait girl, so you're not only a stalker, but a home wrecker?" She interrogated me. I pursed my seductively and raised my eyebrows. "Whatever happened to my mild-tempered rational Audrey?"

"She fell in love," I sighed gazing distantly out the window remembering my dreams. His face swimmed before me, obliterating the towering palm trees and crashing surf we were speeding along. Genie started making hacking noises and fake barfed out the window. Rolling her eyes at me, she gave me an exasperated look and gunned the motor.

"Alright, to Beverly Hills!" She fiddled with the radio and some angry screechy music came on. The music blared out the speakers as we drove toward the colossal houses and manicured lawns. Along the sidewalk, men in Armani sunglasses and Rainbow flip flops patiently waited next to their cooing bottle blonds as they window shopped. Glasses clinked with the toast of champagne and Bloody Mary's at 11 in the morning. The relaxed atmosphere puzzled me immediately. Even from a distance, I could sense the laissez-faire attitude. Underneath it all, however, was tension and urgency. Tinkling titters and booming guffaws hinted at the pretense of the scene. Calculated glances betrayed smooth voices. Wide smiles stretched over gleaming white teeth, reminding me of the wicked smile sharks display before tearing their prey to shreds. This world was one thing—cutthroat.

Genie watched the road, clearly not attune to the backstabbing and deal breaking occurring on the sidewalks. I continued to scan the cafés and shops for him. Hoping to catch a glimpse of his casual saunter amidst the crowd of clone people. No luck.

"Oh my god! Audrey!! Look!" Genie shouted at me and pointed across the road. I whipped my head around with a resounding crack.

"God!! OUCH! FUCK." I screamed and held my neck as it throbbed from the self-induced whiplash. I desperately looked at the passerby. I couldn't see Rob anywhere. "Where?!" I gasped, frantically trying to find him.

"There! Wow it's soo cute! We're going!" Genie swung into a parking space and I stared at her confused.

"Wait, are you talking about Rob?"

"Um, no, I'm not talking Rob," she enunciated clearly and smirked when she said his name. "I'm talking about that adorable tea shop over there!" She gestured toward a squat building painted bright pink. The front of the building curved outwards toward the sidewalk, with bulging windows and a lacy curtains. It had a small sign reading in curvy letters, "Tillie's Tea." The shop looked like a pastry confection complete with white icing and chocolate sprinkles.

I turned and glared at Genie. "A tea house?" I exhaled as the excitement whooshed out of my lungs. Disappointment and dejection replaced the happy bubble inside of me. I thought he had been right there, I thought I was finally going to see him.

"C'mon, let's have afternoon tea!" Genie demanded in a British accent, and jumped out of the car.

"Ugh, alright." I padded after her into the house of frills and bows, nearly suffocating as the sweet smell of honey and lavender permeated my being. The hot air and lack of oxygen made my eyes droop and muscles slack. The tiny bustling woman seated us in a table far in the corner. I envied her unruffled nature as I eyed her floor sweeping dress, apron and bonnet. How did she not die of heat stroke? My back to the door, I found myself staring at a wall decorated with plastic fruit.

"Ok, let's get some cucumber sandwiches. And oh! This jasmine and coconut blend tea sounds nice! What do you think, Aud?" Genie glanced anxiously up from the menu.

"Sounds fine to me." I heard myself mutter in reply. I was aware of a light jingling as though the door had opened. I waited for the breeze to waft in but our table was so far back it never came. The air was growing denser and denser as I leaned my chin on fist. I blinked a couple times to wake myself up. That didn't help. Now a dull ache persisted in my temples. The room started swimming before me. I tried to take a few deep breaths but only inhaled the sickly sweet honey smell. Slowly, I felt myself slipping away. Genie's alarmed face cut in and out of my darkening vision. A distant clatter sounded above me, and I was gone. Blackness.

A bright light shined into my eyes as I pulled myself back into consciousness. Several pairs of worried eyes bored into mine as I struggled to sit up.

_Oh my god. How embarrassing! I fainted!?_ I thought in horror to myself. Strong hands helped into a sitting position. _Oh god! I hope my stomach isn't showing!_ I yanked my shirt down just in case. The buzz of murmurs surrounded me, the disgusting tea room smell still saturating my nostrils.

"I'm ok. I'm really…I'm ok." I stammered, staring at the floor to avoid the inquisitive stares.

"Can you move her outside please?" The cold, unfeeling voice of the hostess politely ordered.

"Yeah, yeah definitely. C'mon Aud!" Genie tugged my hand and tried to pull me up. I didn't get up. Somehow I stayed on the floor. The light above me was spinning. I could feel it coming again. I still didn't have any air to breathe—the room went dark again.

Suddenly I bolted into alertness. I was sitting on a wooden bench outside the horrendous pink building. The air was clear, the light bright. Genie stood in front of me biting her nails. Her worried eyes bored into mine. "You ok?!"

"Um yeah, just a bit…" I replied, dazed. I was suddenly aware that I was being supported by something other than the hard bench. A muscular arm encircled my shoulders, keeping me perfectly upright. I followed the arm up to the shoulder—nicely toned shoulder. A worn red t-shirt strained as the taught muscles held me in place. As my gaze swept past an bronze curl, my heart skipped a beat. Tendrils of thick copper hair swooped and looped, complete chaos, yet perfectly mussed. My eyes widened as I took in the smooth forehead, prominent eyebrows and high cheekbones. A pouty mouth was pursed in concern, emphasizing the strong jaw that accompanied it. I was aware of my mouth dropping open as I stared into grey-green eyes. Eyes that had haunted my dreams, taunted me in magazines and posters. Eyes that were now locked with mine, in sincerity. The were tight with worry, evaluating mine. A giddy tremor shook through me but I didn't dare break eye contact. His eyes searched my face, checking to see if I had recovered. They looked like pools of water, miniature lakes drawing me in. I was staring at him, and he was staring at me. Rob Pattinson. Cedric Diggory. Edward Cullen. His alter-egos meshed into one superhuman sitting beside me, staring at me intently, caring about me.


	5. The Invite

I felt myself falling into his eyes, being absorbed by their soothing tranquility. I was sure I looked a mess, makeup probably smeared, hair unattractively hectic.

"You alright?" his sing-song voice broke my reverie, full of worry. The British accent added eloquence to his words, and I was dazzled.

I opened my mouth to say yes in a magical seductive way, but found my throat wasn't quite functioning. I nodded, smiling quickly up at him. His lips parted into an easy smile and I was suddenly aware of our proximity, our mouths were inches apart. It felt so right, him holding me, our gazes locking. I wanted to run my hands through his hair, taste those perfect lips; endless fantasies formed in my head.

"You sure? You not going to faint again, yeah?" he spoke again with a chuckle. This time my heart started pounding. I felt myself grow hot in the face. I had just fainted in front of Robert Pattinson, and he had just saved me. And he was sitting right next to me, asking if I was alright.

I was way better than alright.

A sudden movement behind him interrupted my dream come to life. I glanced quickly to see the perpetrator, the one who interrupted my perfect moment. Genie beamed at me, her mouth open in a silent scream, and then a quick grimace. Another figure came out of the tea shop. Tall and lean, the young woman stalked briskly over to me and Rob's bench. She was wearing loose fitting dark denim shorts, cinched at her waist with a woven belt. A tight white camisole showed off her small arms and delicate neck. Fragile gold earrings complimented the ocher flecks in her green eyes. Dark eyebrows framed her face, matching her glossy chestnut hair. She was a vision of beauty. She smiled curtly at me but it didn't reach her eyes. Crossing her arms in front of her, she tapped her foot on the floor, extending her shapely leg. Rob glanced up at her with a twinkle in his eye and suddenly I was sitting alone on the bench.

"Hey babe. You're one superhero." Camilla told him, staring deeply into the eyes I had just been staring into. She smiled again at me, this time fully—clearly she was comfortable now that he was with her.

"Yeah, thanks!" I managed to squeak at him quickly wiping away any errant mascara or eyeliner. I noticed Camilla's hand snaking around his forearm pulling him closer to her. He was still facing me though, I noticed with a surge of pride. He was staring at me again with a tight look of puzzlement in his eyes.

"Well, I didn't do much. I just sort of carried you out of that place." He jerked his head back towards the entrance to Tillie's Tea. Every word he said to me was pure poetry, leaving me utterly bewitched. "That shop is terrible. I don't blame you for fainting, it smells awful in there." He grinned good-naturedly at me. "Camilla likes it, though." He added thoughtfully.

He might as well have driven a knife through me. My insides squirmed as I thought of him bowing to her every need. They were actually together. I could feel the world slipping from beneath me, myself falling into utter devastation. I wanted to wail with grief.

"Oh, so you guys are, together?" I asked with what was hopefully my brightest smile. I tried to look as innocently interested as possible, as happy for her as I would have been had it been me he was currently attached to.

"Umm, not exactly," he answered quickly.

"More or less," she responded at the same time with a no-nonsense look on her face. They grew silent as their differing attitudes created an awkward silence. They looked at each other, each with worried looks. I took advantage of the situation to try and adjust my top and place my legs at the most flattering of angles.

"Oh, ok." I giggled up at them.

"Well, we gotta run!" Camilla threw what was meant to be a last look at me.

"How would you and your friend feel about joining us for dinner tonight?" Rob asked suddenly. They were clearly out of sync. My stomach jumped, I'm pretty sure an idiotic grin crossed my face. Rob Pattinson had just asked me to dinner. And I was lost for words. My mouth opened and closed a few times before Genie quickly saved me, "Oh, we'd LOVE too!" I had almost forgotten she was there.

Camilla glowered at Rob, clamping her hand down on his arm, trying to tug him away. "Um, sweetie, we need to go!"

"Alright, well do you two know Nobu?" He threw an irritated glance at Camilla before setting his eyes on me.

"Yes," I managed to breathe, my sight never leaving his lovely face.

"Ok, well, we'll have a table there around, say, 8:30?"

I couldn't talk again.

"We'll be there!" Genie assured him, and he allowed Camilla to lead him towards a shiny Mercedes.

"Thanks again!" I screamed after him, finally finding my voice. He didn't turn around, I don't think I was loud enough. I watched his retreating figure. The casual grace with which he walked made me swoon. I could swear I could see his muscles rippling under his loose red t-shirt. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his perfect saunter.


	6. The Show

"OH MY GOD!" Genie jumped in front of me, screaming shrilly. She bounced in a circle, holding her head in her hands. "WE JUST MET ROBERT FUCKING PATTINSON AND HE JUST INVITED US TO FUCKING DINNER!" She yelled into my face. Her eyes bugged and she ran down the street, back to me, down the street, and back up to me again.

I was catatonic. I sat stupidly on the wooden bench, waiting for reality to hit, waiting for me to wake up from my dream. I pinched myself, hard. I closed my eyes tightly and counted to three. I opened and stared out into the L.A street. Cars still whizzed by, couples still passed, Genie was still flipping out. I was way past flipping out. I couldn't move, I was so struck by the enormity of what had just happened. In a tidal wave of realization, I jumped up from the bench. I started waving my hands hysterically, hopping from foot to foot, shaking my head. I mumbled, "omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod," over and over to myself. A group of jabbering girls stopped to stare at me as I did my victory dance on the sidewalk. Genie was at my side, still reiterating the whole situation. After we calmed down enough, we walked dazedly to her car.

"Uh, I don't think I can drive just yet." Genie leaned against the minty vehicle. I slid into the driver's seat.

"Let me drive." She didn't argue.

I distracted myself by focusing entirely on driving safely. I obeyed all the traffic laws, stopped for every pedestrian, and continually checked my mirrors. It was easier to be normal if I didn't think about what just happened. After a couple blocks, I turned on the radio. A sunny Sheryl Crow song blasted as we pulled into the parking lot of our oh-so-chic hotel. Genie had gotten a hold of herself and we managed to make it to the elevator before collapsing in giggles of hysteria. Clutching each other for support, we hobbled down the hallway and entered our room. I fell on my bed in a stupor, laughing myself silly. I fantasized about dinner, how I would impress him with my superior sushi knowledge, unabashedly flirt with him, maybe even play a little game of footsy. It was a great little daydream until I thought about what I was going to wear. Genie had already taken over the bathroom, so I was left alone to agonize over my inadequate wardrobe. I ripped through the pile of clothes on the bed, searching desperately for a suitable dress, chic pants, swanky shirt, something that I could wear and not look like a complete troll next to Camilla. I pulled my high stilettos out from the mountain of clothes and decided to plan an outfit around them. Everything I owned looked shabby and cheap, or utterly outdated. I grasped a pair of leggings, trying to find something to pair with them to look suave and sophisticated.

Genie came out of the bathroom brushing her teeth, and panic crossed her face as she realized what I was doing. She rushed into the room, frantically digging through our clothes for something for herself. She extricated a tight yellow dress and sighed in relief.

"Help me!" I stared wide-eyed at her in panic.

"Ok, we need to get you looking really hot. Like, not just cute Audrey, hot hot mamasita hot," she informed me. Tapping her finger against her head, she pulled out a teal sweater and skinny jeans. She handed them to me and waited expectantly. I wrenched the clothes on, careful not to stretch out the jeans, and smiled inquiringly.

"Oh my god, I have a perfect idea. We'll have the guys decide what you wear!" She exclaimed, haphazardly gathering tops, pants and dresses.

"What guys?" I asked her, vexed by her lack of feedback.

"The guys downstairs! The ones who work here, they'll totally be able to tell us what looks the best on you—you know, from a man's perspective!" She grinned and pulled me out of the room. It was actually a really great idea, some kind of genius I don't think I would have ever thought of. We raced down the elevator to the entrance lobby, and searched the dreary room for a door that said, "Employees Only." In the far corner, behind a plant, we spotted it.

"Ready?" Genie punctuated her sinister question with a wicked cackle. I giggled in response and she swung the door open. Stepping across the stone threshold, I noticed we were in a storeroom, stocked full of bed sheets, pillows, blankets, bars of soap and miniature shampoo bottles. I gazed at the towering mound of damp towels in the corner, taking in the true of beauty of the classy hotel we had picked.

"Wow," I mumbled in mock reverence, "this is something."

Genie punched my arm and pushed forward, moving towards the far door. I could hear chatter behind it, and knew that this was it.

"Hi guys!" Genie plastered a gigantic smile on her face as she strode into the small kitchen. She looked utterly insane, carrying a massive pile of clothes in one hand and waving frenetically with the other. "I'm Genie, and this is my friend Audrey! We're guests here." She introduced us to the tableful of men. They were all clad in dirty t-shirts and jeans—clearly the behind-the-scenes crew.

"Uh, guests aren't allowed back here," a blonde man piped from the back of the table. His eyes were a piercing blue, and his face was cute, boyish, but his sleeve of tattoos on his right arm immediately cancelled out his baby charm.

"Oh, we know. We're sorry for intruding, but we were wondering if you could help us. Actually, help me help my friend here," she pointed a finger at me, "who could say something about now!" She added angrily under her breath.

"Um yeah, so basically, I kinda have like, this hot date tonight," I began. Hot date was both an understatement and overstatement. Understatement because hot didn't even begin to describe Rob, overstatement because it wasn't exactly a date as his girlfriend was going to be there. "So this guy, I really want him to like me, so I want to look really good. So we were wondering…" I tried to turn on the charm for this roomful of grouchy men.

"We were wondering….if you could give us some feedback on the outfits we're thinking of!" Genie finished for me. "I thought Aud could try stuff on, come out and model it for you guys, and ya'll can tell her what you think!"

I could tell she was marveling at the simultaneous ludicrousness and brilliance of her plan.

The guys grumbled and laughed to each other, but they seemed fine with the idea.

"Sure honey, whatever you want," a swarthy man with a goatee nodded at Genie, eyeing her up and down.

She smiled pure sugar and pulled me back into the storeroom. Suddenly the teal sweater I was wearing was ripped from my body and I was stuffed into a white dress.

"Jesus! Woman, I can dress myself!" I glared at her.

"Sorry, I just always wanted to be one of those people at fashion shows, you know? Who like, tear clothes on and off and yell 'Go! Go! Go!'" She grinned sheepishly to herself. I fit the floaty dress over stomach and pulled on heels, added a leather vest and fluffed out my hair. Ready for my debut, I waited as Genie opened the door for me. I walked out into the little kitchen for the second time. Posing for a second, I did a little twirl and placed my hands on my hips.

"Sooo, what do you guys think?"

The men answered me with resounding whoops and hollers. I wasn't quite sure how helpful this was going to be.

"Wait, no seriously guys. Do I look alright? Or did I look better in the jeans?"

The room grew silent as the brawny guys scratched their heads thinking. A dark man with an unkempt beard spoke first.

"You looked sexier in the jeans, but more L.A. in this."

_Alright, cogent articulate man feedback!_ I thought to myself. Genie was studying me from the doorway, eyes narrowed.

"I don't know if this is going to make him want to bone you or anything Aud," she admitted.

"I would!" The blonde man offered, winking at me. I nodded politely and ran back to the storeroom.

Outfit after outfit, dress after skirt after top, the boys from the hotel actually produced constructive criticism and actual critiquing. By he fourth outfit, they were pros, lending their opinion on the fitted navy blue camisole providing a nice counterbalance to the volume of the coral and grey skirt. Genie and I laughed hysterically as I changed. Thirty minutes and many come-on's later, I finally found the right thing to wear for dinner. My black tank top dress with a canvas vest and gladiator sandals. Benny, the man with the goatee, had mentioned how the gladiators and canvas added an unexpected urban feel to the breeziness of the black dress. That was going on my quote board. Mission accomplished, Genie and I trooped back to our room to finish our makeup and jewelry. We hopped up and down, nervous with excitement and anticipation for meeting Rob Pattinson again.

One final glance in the mirror before I grabbed the leather purse Johno's—the blonde baby face—girlfriend, Imelda, had lent me, told me that there was nothing more I could do to enhance my plain appearance. Mascara layered on thicker than ever, eyeliner tapered to look natural but visible, teeth brushed three times to ensure no bad breath and a gleaming smile, I knew this was the best I was ever going to look. I still didn't have the effortless style and grace of Camilla Belle, nor the no-fuss charm of Genie, but I couldn't help but hope that Rob would have eyes only for me. I prayed to god—though I wasn't quite sure there was one—that Rob would look at me again and stare deep into my eyes. I wished for him to sit right across from me, requesting a quiet cramped table where our knees would touch discreetly. I could barely believe that this god of man had actually held me already, carried me to safety out of a sweltering hell-house. I crossed my fingers that our relationship hadn't peaked and desperately fantasized about an impromptu makeout session near the bathroom. It could happen. Happens in movies and on TV all the time, and what other medium did he know better?


	7. The Scene

**Please review this! It's a little long, sorry.**

** I need to know that SOOME people are reading this. If you give me your name i might put you into the next chapter...  
**

I told myself to breathe. In and out. In and out. We made our way through the crowded room. It was deafening—the hum of conversations punctuated by an occasion booming laugh or nervous twitter, silverware and chopsticks clattered to the floor, plates and trays slammed down on tables, glasses clinked. We walked past the bar, past the gorgeous figures silently waiting to be bought a drink, I stared at the women in envy, their hair and makeup perfect, bodies toned and feminine. I started to feel like a troll, awkwardly stumping along lithe dancers, then I saw him. In a corner booth, Camilla firmly at his side. He was staring out the window with a longing look on his face as Camilla chattered away beside him., what little breath I had been using to breath quickly escaped. I was agape at his brooding beauty, forgotten just how chiseled and strong his features were. His eyes were trained intensely on something invisible to me. Genie squeezed my hand excitedly, bursting with anticipation for the meal to come.

We'd reached the table faster than I'd realized. He glanced up, locking our eyes into a heart-stopping gaze. I smiled quickly and managed to croak out some sort of greeting, I didn't take my eyes of him as I slid into the booth, directly across from him. The waitress set down four icy glasses of water, and this snapped me out of my trance.

I took a fleeting look at Camilla—a shadow had crossed her face, making her look less attractive. She had a petulant snarl on her lips, which swiftly molded into a honey-sweet smile as we made eye-contact.

"Thanks for coming." Rob cut back into my focus.

"No! Thank YOU!" Genie beamed at him. I remembered that she found him heart-stopping sexy, too. With a spasm of panic, I realized that there were thousands of other girls, just like me. They were reasonable attractive with a likeable personality, and were crazy in love with Rob. What separated me from the rest? To him, I was just some silly girl who fainted in an evil tea shop, and he decided to extend an affable, purely platonic invitation to. Inside I was crumbling—completely shaken by my sudden epiphany—but in on the outside, I did my best to maintain pleasant conversation.

Genie had already slipped into ease around the two of the, chirping with delight over the green tea, and making oofy comments about the fish swimming in a tank behind the bar.

"I mean, that SO morbid!" she exlaimed, rolling her eyes toward the poor animals splashing around.

Camilla laughed immediately, but I could see her eyes coolly regarding Genie and me.

Finally, Rob spoke. He hadn't said a word all through dinner, except to order a plate of sashimi for himself.

"It's terrible being in a fishbowl," he said pensievely. He drew his gaze from the window, and rested his eyes oon me. This time I was ready, his movements had been slow—I knew he was going to be locking his eyes on mine. His words, however, caught me off guard. They sounded a little deep for such small talk about the doomed fish. I snorted. I couldn't helop it. It was utterly involuntary, but completely inexcusable. Here, ROB PATTINSON had just said something meaningful, something revealing, and I had kust laughed at him. What did I know? Stupid, plain girl from the gay Mecca of the world. I tried to turn my rude reaction into a severe cough, but im sure he saw right through it. Regret spread thorugh me—tainting every fiber of my soul. Despite my agoniznigm, however, Rob looked entirely unruffled.

"I mean, I love being famous, as cliché as it sounds. It really has some perks." His face morphed into a good-natured grin, his eyes sparkeling. I'm sure he was reveling in his "perks." "But it gets tiresome, the constant rumors and whispering. And the crazy stalker fans."

My stomach nervously clenched as he uttered the last part with disdain. I was a crazy stalker fan. Whoops.

"Yeah, I can see that,"I mused, my appeasing façade back up. "I bet those fangirls can get a little frighting." I saw Genie drop her chopstickful of unagi.

"You have no idea," he laughed at me.

I laughed with him, a little too loudly. I don't think he really noticed though, Camilla had placed her arm on his shoulder, claiming him back.

"Didn't you get a letter once from some girl in Backalackatackamack-astan?" She wrinkled her nose at him, proud of her little dig at the obscure no-name country she mentioned. She was enjoying this, parading her trophy in front of me and Genie's jealous eyes.

He furrowed his brow at her, reproaching her for her callousness.

"That girl was sweet," he began. "She said she liked my acting." He added as an afterthough, sitting up straighter.

His smile lit me up. It was as if a thousand suns were being shined in my face, their brilliance and beauty filling me with buoyant happiness. His expression changed again. He stared at me intently, with deep purpose in his grey-green eyes. I swooned as his knee brushed mine from under the table. Camilla had turned to complain to the waitress, Genie was talking to Drew Barrymore at the bar. We were suddenly alone.

"Go to the loo in two minutes," he whispered at me. My pulse instantly quickened, my mind racing. Was it my imagination, or did he just announce a little bathroom rondez-vous? I opened my mouth to question him but Camilla had turned back, wrapping her claws tighter on his forearm. He tighktened his perfect lips and shook his head rapidly, casting a meaningful glance at me.

"Ready to go?" Camilla almost glared at him expectantly, willing him to say he wanted to leave.

"Oh no, I want dessert tonight," he announced firmly, her face falling. "Let's get some menus." He looked up to flag down the waitress, his gaze sweeping past me as he did so. A slight imperceptible nod, and small raise of eyebrows told me everything I needed to know.

"Um, excuse me, but I have to use the restroom. I'll be back in a second," I quietly exited myself from their company, tearing my eyes away from his wondrous visage.

I walked unevenly to the back of the restaurant, nervously searching for the hallway to the bathroom. My heart stopped as I noticed a couch wedged in between the doors labeled "Men's" and "Women's." The little nook was carpeted and quiet, the light from wall sconces shone behind rice paper, casting the area in a warm glow. The ebony wood paneling glittered. I could smell the freesia air fragrence seeping from the two bathrooms. I stood unsure in that little waiting room, wondering if I should actually go to the bathroom. I was worried I would miss him, so I hovered awkwardly near the door to the ladies'. Restless, I fidgeted with my clothes, tugging and pulling the white vest to hang less awkwardly. I stared at the wall, ran my eyes over the pattern in the rug. What was I thinking? Rob Pattinson wasn't coming to wildly hook up with me. He most likely just wanted to talk about Camilla and her undeniable annoyingness. I remembered my ungainly walk, and how unflatteringly my bum must have wobbled as I had left the table. I thought of my inability to control my face around him, he probably thought I was semi-retarded. That's why he was being so nice. I sighed at my toes, eyeing the chipped nailpolish and obvious flip-flop tan with disgust. How could Rob Pattinson find me attractive if the boys at my school barely did? I had never had a real boyfriend, and only been legitimately asked to a school formal once, by Jerry Galapoogo, a Greek boy with a head of uncurly hair bigger than him. He had been shorter than me. And I was pretty sure he weighed less, too. Cute. Lost in my self-despair and pity, I wasn't aware someone was with me until large hands grasped mine. I looked up, gulping. I stared deep into piercing eyes, drowning in their watery depths as his lips crushed against mine. He encircled me in his arms. I was pressed up against him, my hands placed on his muscular chest. I moved them up to his neck as my adrenaline finally kicked in. I kissed him harder and he held me tighter. His hands wandered up and down, pausing on my lower back, clenching my waist, he clutched my hips and pulled me even closer. I combed my fingers through his thick mane of tangly bed hair. All too soon it was over. Much too early, he pulled away, slipping a folded square of paper into my hands. He gripped my shoulders as he gave me one longing stare before whispering, "Go! She's going to get suspicious!"

I nodded, still reeling. Tucking the little paper into my vest pocket, I tottered back to the table. Genie was sitting at the table again, Camilla's back was to me. She gave me a meant to be sly knowing look and giggled in delight. I sat next to her, trying to smooth my hair and look innocent. But Camilla caught on right away. She sharply looked me up and down, taking in my necklace hanging askew, my lips red and swollen, my ragged breathing. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the strap of my dress falling off my shoulder. I looked impossibly obvious. She clicked her nails against the table, fidgeting in her seat. Throwing impatient glances over her shoulder, I could see the anger welling up in her kaliedescope eyes.

Rob came from behind her, smiling a sleazy half-smile at me. As he slid in next to her, he placed one hand on her back. I boiled on the inside, but she shrugged it off. She turned to him, her eyes flashing.

"What, do you just like to publicly humiliate me, Rob?" She spat at him.

He wasn't prepared for this, he looked around for help. I just stared at him helplessly, Genie trembled with excitement beside me.

"Um, what are you talking about Camilla?" He was back at ease, his face betraying no emotion.

"Are you actually serious?" She asked scornfully. "Do you think I'm just some Hollywood bimbo? I'm not an idiot, you know."

" Well…" Rob began, trying to find a suitable response.

"You know what? Save it. I am an idiot for getting involved with you. You're such a pig. I mean, she's some random fan! What is wrong with you, are you going to hook up with the hobo on the corner next?!" She yanked her jacket from the back of the chair and got up. I was taken aback at the insult. She was a bitch. Rob stuttered helplessly after her, but he made no move to follow her. The entire restaurant had turned around, gaping at the cause of commotion. Camera shutters clicked and lights flashed as Camilla stalked out of Nobu. I was blinded as they snapped in my face, illuminating Rob, Genie and I. People started shouting questions at him, at me.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about all that. We should probably get out of here," he murmered, leaning down low across the table. Genie and I pushed our way through the melee, Rob frequently impeded by an eager reporter. The room buzzed with excitement as we tore down the front steps, racing down the street towards Genie's car. In an effort to avoid valet tip, she had parked two blocks away. Two long blocks. The crowd still hounded us as we jumped in, Genie starting the car. I had bounded into the backseat, Rob had too. The cacophony from the restaurant instantly died, plunging us into silence as Genie pulled into traffic. Rob and I had squashed up against the side of the car, his arms splayed over me, keeping his weight off of me. Our faces were so close, our noses almost touching. His cool breath, tinged with cinnamon played across my cheeks. I was enraptured, frozen , not daring to move an inch, afraid to break the spell. Genie broke it for me. Old school Britney Spears blasted from the speaker I had been leaning against. I shot up, bumping into him, pushing him off me. He sat in his conventional seat, staring at his hands and chuckling as "Oops I Did It Again" boomed around us. I stared forlornly at him, willing him to slide back next to me, to feel that electricity hum and throb as our bodies touched. I tried my supernatural telekinesis powers, focusing all my brain power, concentrating on him being at my side. No luck. He stayed right where he was, really on a couple feet, but what felt like miles between us. His seatbelt clicked into place, finalizing the situation. He turned his gaze to me, and quietly studied me as we sped along the freeway.

"I played with your heart! Got lost in the game! Oh baby babyyy!" Genie wailed from the front seat, bouncing in time with the music. I placed my hand on the vacant middle seat, pushing myself up to stare out the back. I jumped as I felt his hand rest over mine, smoothly weaving his fingers into mine. I looked at him and smiled, he turned one corner of his mouth up, and we sat there in silence. A tingling started in my toes and slowly climbed up my body until I wanted to jump up and bounce around. A squeeze to his hand sufficed and I tried to regulate my breathing. Tried to not hyperventilate.


	8. The Interview

The Palazzio's bright fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on my skin as Rob, Genie and I walked toward our room. Genie stood in between us, making me hate her a little. Rob and I had held hands the whole ride home and his absence ripped my heart out. Of course, he was only about 5 feet away. Genie babbled animatedly about the paparazzi hunting us down. She skipped along the hallway, her black curls bouncing with each step. Her yellow dress was almost offensive in the unforgiving lighting. I could only imagine how pale I looked, how made up my face was. I tried not to look at him, pulling my hair forward, hiding my ugliness until we reached a more flattering atmosphere.

Rob grinned and laughed at Genie's exclamations, throwing me furtive smiles from under his dark brows. I was a little confused as to why he was here. In the heat of the moment, it had seemed natural for him to escape with us. But now as his fantastical form headed into our cheap motel room, he seemed rudely misplaced. His playful perfection didn't belong in these shabby quarters—much more fitting for a swanky cocktail party, or pulsing nightclub. His clothes, though modest and inexpensive, still seemed largely out of sync with me and Genie's hopeless wardrobe, piled in shambles on the bed. I finally noticed what he was wearing; a basic black button down, well tailored jeans and snazzy spectators. I stared at his shoes, such an unexpected touch. He followed my gaze and smiled knowingly.

"Aren't they wicked? I found them at this flea market last week. I feel like Frank Sinatra!"

I nodded but didn't look away from the black and white shoes. Inwardly, I laughed at his dorkiness. No guy I knew would ever buy, let alone wear those shoes willingly. Nor would they aspire to be Frank Sinatra. It made him all the more endearing.

"Hey so, where are you staying?" Genie asked Rob pointedly. "Do you have a room or anything?" He looked away shiftily.

"Well, I was kinda staying with Camilla," he explained, looking uncomfortable as he took in the two beds and cramped quarters.

"Well, you could sleep here tonight if you wanted!" Genie offered brightly, dumping all my makeup on the floor, off of my bed.

"Um, yeah, ok. That's really nice of you. Um, alright, I guess," he slowly agreed, eyes still darting around the room.

"So what WERE you and Camilla?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

He sank down on the bed, loosening his shirt and taking off his belt. My stomach flipped a little.

"I'm not really sure. It's sort of complicated," he answered lamely as he untied his shoes and leaned back onto the pillows. I went and sat on the edge of the other bed, admiring his built frame resting upon the sheets I had slept in the night before.

"EVERYTHING'S complicated. You have to give us more than that—think of it, as rent," Genie challenged him, taking off her earrings. Everyone seemed to be undressing, and I stayed poised in my full ensemble.

"Well, it's not so much complicated, as it's just so irritating. I have no idea where I stand with her most of the time," he backpedaled. "See, she was friends with this girl I was co-starring with back in England. It was some random mini-series, I don't think it even got run," he began to launch into his story.

"Anyway, her and I just sort of, hit it off. She would come to the set to visit her friend, Laurie, and I would just be there. We got to talking, and it turned out she needed a roommate in L.A. At that time, I was thinking of moving to America; my agent had suggested it would propel my career a bit."

I started to take my shoes off; my toes were aching from being crammed into the patent leather all evening.

"So I took her up on it, she seemed nice enough. And hot as hell I might add," he smiled unabashedly. My eyes narrowed as he said this, waves of jealousy emanating from my body.

"For a month or so it was totally chill, she would bring home random guys, I would occasionally bring a girl over. But there was this connection between us. We got really close, kinda like best friends. Her and I just sort of, I don't know, clicked," he looked vaguely perplexed as he said this, as though trying to figure out why he would be so in tune with such a bitchy, possessive monster.

"One night, we both stumbled home pretty blasted, and you know…" he looked up at me. My hand was frozen on my shoe, still only halfway off. I was staring at him, at the light playing across his hair, dancing. His lips were parted, and I wanted to throw myself at him, taking them with mine. I realized what he just said and busied myself with my shoe, pretending to not really care what he was talking about.

"Yeah, not too surprising, go on," I encouraged him, kicking my heels off; they soared across the room, banging against the window. Always, so graceful.

"Um yeah, so I don't know, we just sort of started real casual with each other. We were by no means exclusive; I mean she was totally screwing Justin. She's kind of a whore, I mean poor Jess," he said, talking more to himself than me. I paused for a second, Justin? Jessica? As in, Timberlake and Biel? Oh my god.

"Every once in a while we would go out together, and the rags would go crazy. But she just got really weird about things, started forcing me to go places with her I really hated. She'd get really upset at me if I ever talked about other girls. And she would never let me go. It was like she was attached to me or something, she'd never let me out of her sight for more than a minute, or her clutches for that matter," a shadow crossed over his face as he recounted the story.

"Oh I get it, she just got really clingy?" I offered, trying to sound very knowledgeable about relationships.

"Yeah, but we still weren't even exclusive! I don't know, it really didn't make any sense. It's all for the better now," he rolled over and looked at me. He did look rather lonely on the bed by himself. Genie had disappeared into the bathroom; Rob and I were alone together.

"Hmm, sounds like a really strange situation," I decided removing my vest and running to find boxers and t-shirt. "And it sucks now that you don't even have a place to sleep. You have to resort to staying in shitty motels like this!" I joked as I pulled on my watermelon boxers and ran behind the door to change into my oversized t-shirt. I was happy he was going to see me like this. I always felt cute at night for some reason. I would spend all day fretting about my appearance, but in my pj's, I felt relaxed.

"Yeah, but I think its worked out well so far," he said to me, staring into my eyes again. I really hated it when he did that, it made me feel completely out of control, and totally whipped. I jumped onto the foot of his bed, hugging my knees to my chest.

"So tell me a bit about yourself, Audrey…" he grabbed my ankle and pulled me closer to him. "Do you have a last name?"

"Yes, my name is Audrey Reynolds, and I live in San Francisco, California," I told him, enunciating clearly and formally.

"So what are you doing in Los Angeles?" His hand still rested on my ankle, my toes were brushing his leg.

"Umm, I don't know, just sort of a spontaneous road trip."

"Huh, sounds like fun," his absentminded reply barely reached my ears as I leaned closer towards him.

"Yeah, it's kind of our swan song I guess. I'll be leaving for Cornell, and she's heading off to UCSD," I cooked up a rational reason for our road trip.

"Oh, so you're off to college soon. No more, what do you guys call it here? High school?" His hand moved towards mine.

"Yup, pretty much," I breathed, sinking into his swirling eyes.

"God that feels like ages ago, I'm an old man now. 22!" He announced, somewhat somberly.

"Oh? I just turned 18. Like, three weeks ago," I decided to let him know. Understanding registered instantly in his eyes. He sat up straighter, widening his legs a little and wrapped his other arm around me. Was this happening again?

"So, ever seen Harry Potter Four?" He chuckled, looking away.

"Of course! Harry Potter's my fave! But I always really liked Cedric," I answered, scooting closer to him.

"That's funny, I feel like Cedric and I are the same person," he smiled fully, knocking me over. His straight white teeth stood out against his pink tongue. His lips curved gracefully up. I followed his laugh lines to his eyes, crinkling in total sincerity.

"You know what other books I've read?" I asked playfully.

"What?" his eyes roved around my face.

"Twilight," I stated, finally weaving both my hands around one of his.

"Ah Twilight. You're not one of those screaming Twilighters are you?" he pulled me right up to his chest; we were making full physical contact. If I could have paused time, I think I might have shrieked myself hoarse.

"Haha very funny. I'm no fanpire!" I said, almost too defensively as I nestled closer to him.

"Good, because I'm really no Edward Cullen," he said seriously. I could care less; Edward was much too chaste anyway.

"Well, I kinda like Edward, he seems like a really sweet guy," I teased.

"I can do some of the things Edward does," he said quickly. "I can play piano. And I can run really fast, and break things with superhuman strength." His face was grave, his eyes imploring me to believe him.

"Prove it!" I said, playing into it. I pushed him away, but immediately regretted it. No worry, he had pulled me tighter to him instead. I was curled up against him, both his arms holding me close. One hand gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and stayed at my neck. I gazed back into his eyes, tilting my face up towards him. He leaned down, and our mouths softly molded together. I could hear the water running in the bathroom and hoped Genie was taking a really really long shower. I ran my tongue across his lip, he softly bit mine. He leaned back against the pillows, carrying me with him. I found myself lying on top of him, running my hands through his thick hair. His hands explored my backside. I kissed him harder. In an instant, I found myself pinned beneath him, my hands now quivering as they felt his rippling muscles. We flipped over again, me on top as I pulled away to look at him. I slid to his side, cuddling up against him. He pulled the blanket up over me and clambered off the bed.

"I'll sleep on the floor. It's the least I can do," he said, surprisingly chivalrous.

"No, it's fine, Genie and I can share…"I sat up, anxious for him to be comfortable.

"I don't want to be an inconvenience," he insisted, and grabbed a pillow and blanket from the closet. "Look at this comfy little patch right here."

I watched dumbfounded as he rolled around on the floor, trying to get comfortable. Sighing I laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Genie had snuck back into the room and hopped into her bed. I turned over to talk to her and she gave me a bewildered look. She shrugged and switched the light off.

"Goodnight!" She squeaked and rolled onto her stomach. Within seconds she was breathing heavily, and I knew she had fallen asleep. I gazed unseeingly out the window. Robert Pattinson and I had hooked up, twice. I had been the cause of his breakup with his non-girlfriend. He was now sleeping on my floor. Life had a funny way of working out. His manner slightly worried me. He came off a little sleazy. What did he see in me besides free cuddles and sex? It's not like I'm the hottest thing around. He had invited me to dinner after I almost died of affhixiation. Hot. We exchanged maybe fifteen words before he had me shoved up against a wall, giving into his charm. He could hardly care about me as much as I cared about him. He didn't even know how many times I had fantasized about him. And for it to happen, completely out of the blue, when I least expected it, just made it weird. As much as I tried to look past it and bask in his undeniable sexiness, I was still bothered by it. I didn't want to be just any girl that he had enjoyed, one of his careless exploits. I wanted to be someone who stood out to him. Someone who, in twenty years when he looked back at his life would make him say, what happened to her? Who did she end up with? Maybe I should beat him up.

I sighed as I knew I wished for the impossible, the unattainable. I wanted to be back in his arms. I wanted to be up right against him again. It had felt perfect before. I was cold and alone on this bed. On my right, Rob was curled on the floor, facing away from me. I could see his body rise and fall with each breath, outlined against the lights from the city peeking through the blinds. He coughed. I was up in a flash, grasping his hand and tugging him up. I led him to my bed and pulled him into the warm comforter. He got in, pulling me towards him, enveloping me in his strong arms. He kissed my forehead and we lay there, slowly drifting to sleep.


	9. The Spree

The familiar sensation of sunlight spread across my feet, warming them up. My right was all warm, too; I could feel heat emanating from my shoulders all the way down to my legs. Suddenly I remembered why.

I turned over, opening my eyes to find myself face-to-face with Rob Pattinson. He was still sleeping but my movements had woken him somewhat,. He sighed and rolled closer, tightening his hold on me. I smiled at the peaceful expression on his face. He looked like an angel, the sunlight shinning behind his head—creating a mesmerizing halo. I stared at his flawless features in reverence until something inside of me clicked. I was suddenly horribly aware of my puffy eyes, still slightly smeared with makeup from last night. My skin was terribly pasty with blemishes standing out all over the place. I remembered with terror just how messy my hair gets at night. Not the sexy messy which garnished the head laying next to me, but ugly messy—making me look like a prisoner of war refugee. I jumped up and ran into the bathroom to check my appearance.

Disgusting morning-Audrey stared back at me. I yelped and reached for a hair-tie, shoving my hair into a messy bun. I doused my face with cold water, letting it wash away some of the grime from the night before. I slapped my cheeks, trying to infuse life into my sleepy eyes—trying to wake up. Hurriedly, I grabbed the eyeliner, quickly applying, hoping too look semi-attractive. I cast one long look in the glass, evaluating myself. Definitely not good—but what other choice did I have? I flounced back to the bed. He was stirring slightly, turning in different directions as the sun steadily climbed across the bed. I was transfixed by him-his muscular shoulders hunched over the pillow, his shirt had come undone in the night, revealing his ripped abs. The sheets were tangled around his legs, his jeans crumpled on the floor. Riveted by him—his look of pure sex. My phone shook me back to reality, buzzing against the dresser. I ignored it for the first few beats, not wanting to tear my eyes away from him, but temptation won and I found myself answering.

"Hello?" I whispered into the device.

"Honey?! Are you alright? Why haven't you called us?" My mother's voice screeched into my ear.

"What? Oh, hey mom. Everything's fine, sorry I forgot to call you yesterday," I mumbled into the phone, trying not to disturb Rob's slumber.

"Yeah? Well that's unacceptable. You need to call and check in with us at least once a day," she ordered.

"Ok mom. Will do," I muttered, rolling my eyes at her smothering.

"It'd really important!" She insisted. "So how's the little reunion? Meet any nice Latin lovers?"

I cringed as my mom tried to be cool, tried to make conversation she thought I would enjoy.

"Um not really, her cousin' are really fun though. We played an epic game of capture the flag last night," I began spinning my story.

"Sounds great. Glad you're having a good time. Call me tomorrow and be safe!" My mom sang into the phone.

"Yes mom. Talk to you later," I snapped the phone shut and turned back towards the bed. Rob was sitting up, massaging his face. Genie had bounced up and was already searching through our clothes for something to wear.

"Sleep well?" she cackled, eyeing me like a hawk.

"Yeah!" I said enthusiastically, shooting a wary glance in Rob's direction. He still looked befuddled, ruffling his large hands through his copper hair.

I glanced anxiously at the mass of clothing, trying to find something suitable to wear for the day. It was little exhausting trying to look my very best all the time.

"I'm going to take a shower if you ladies don't mind," Rob said, getting up from the bed. I gulped as I imagined him undressed, soapy water running down his front. Maybe I would sneak a peek while he shampooed.

With Rob gone from the room, Genie turned and looked at me. Her eyes were popping out her head as she darted over to hug me. She screamed.

"Can you believe it?" I gasped.

"Um no, We're both most definitely tripping right now," she declared. Then she fixed me with a stony glare. "You have too mind me a man now."

I grimaced and remembered the condition she had imposed when I had told her my plan to stalk Rob.

"I want a sexy, young Hollywood celeb," she announced firmly.

"Uh ok. Maybe we can get Rob to introduce us to his friends?" I offered, desperately trying to find a solution.

"Sure, but remember, at least one of them needs to be dripping with hotness."

I nodded and busied myself with outfit searing. I redid my hair, going for a cute high ponytail.

"What do you think we're doing today?" I asked her, still searching for the perfect ensemble.

"I don't know. Just wear shorts and a t-shirt." Easy for her to say.

I pulled a printed pair of shorts from under the cloth mountain, and put on a tight white tee.

"Good?" I asked her, brushing on more mascara and foundation.

"Yeah that looks good," she pulled on a turquoise halter tunic and squeezed into black tights and jelly's.

_Fabulous looking, once again._ I lamented to myself.

The water had stopped running in the bathroom. I straightened up, pulling my shirt nervously and reaching for the lotion bottle. I placed my leg on the bed at a flattering angle, and started moisturizing, waiting for him to come out.

Genie just gave me an unimpressed look as she shoved random accessories into her bag.

The bathroom door creaked open. I saw a foot, and then a towel-clad Rob step into the room. He clutched his white terry around his hips, hugging his clothes in a ball to his sculpted chest. My eyes ran over the contours of his body, taking in the smooth skin. His muscles bulged and flexed with each movement. The clean smell of soap whiffed into my nose as he moved past me. He was dressed in a flash., all too soon his radiant body hid behind jeans and shirt. He shook his mop of we hair, droplets of water spraying in every direction.

"What are you two up to today?" he asked tentatively.

"We don't have anything planned," Genie blurted out at once.

"Oh, well I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch with me, and then go shopping perhaps?" His invitation sounded so formal with his husky British accent. I melted, adoring the fact that he wanted to go shopping.

"Sure, that sounds like fun," I said as cool as a cucumber.

"Yeah, I kinda hate shopping. But I really do need some clothes-I'm pretty sure Camilla will have burned the ones I had back at the apartment," he admitted. "And I'm sure shopping will be much more enjoyable with you there." He was speaking to both Genie and I, but I could feel his gaze burning a whole in the back of my head.

"Oh this will be great! I love shopping! You know what?" Genie trilled, a devious smile spreading across her face.

"What?" Rob asked. They both stood awkwardly, waiting for me to be done with my show of lotioning my legs.

"You should totally introduce us to your friends! Wouldn't that be fun, Aud?" Genie threw me a malicious glare, bitter that she had to be the one to bring up Rob's buds.

"Yeah, that'd be cool," I looked up at her, hastily capping the cream bottle and grabbing my purse. I hated being the cause of delay.

"Sure. Why don't we meet up with the guys for drinks or something?" Rob suggested, apparently fine with the idea.

And with that, we made our way back down to the parking lot, our seatbelts snapping as Genie drove us toward Rodeo Drive.

I was sitting up front, feeling bad that she had been nothing more than a chauffer the last few rides. Nervously, I counted the money I had in my wallet. 100 dollars. That was going to get me really far on one of the priciest shopping areas in the world. I leaned back and stared out the window. I could see Rob's melancholy face reflected in the glass, the sunlight illuminating his cheek. It shone like polished stone. Genie switched on a classical station, Violins sang out of the speakers, cymbals crashed as she stopped at the red lights. The piece was sad, the piano tinkling a weepy melody. My mood shifted to match the music. As we drove through the shopping district, I noticed blonde beauties flouncing outside the storefronts. Their platinum hair hung in perfect layers, pushed off of their gleaming faces by oversized sunglasses. Summery dresses swirled against tanned legs, slender from daily jogs. Toy sized dogs, dolled up with barrettes and sweaters yapped from the sidewalk. This was the world Rob belonged in. I knew that he would realize that as he took in the glamour lining the streets and looked back at me, dull like a dirty penny. The car ride was silent except for Genie's awkward humming off beat to the music. We finally pulled into a parking space. I dreaded standing out in the hot sun, having to be compared to the L.A. women.

Rob's face cleared when he saw me. I had pushed my wayfarers down over my eyes, to hide the dejection and unparalleled self-doubt, so my sunny smile convinced him. He fell right into step beside me, his hand brushing against mine as we walked. Genie was on my other side, emitting exasperated sighs as we continued in silence. This was getting awkward.

Rob led us into a sleek shop, holding the frosted glass door for Genie and I as we strode in. The room was dark, the glass etchings blocked some of the sunlight. Dark wood floors created a long runway to the counter at the back. A stick thin brunette, hair pulled back severely to show off cold grey eyes came forward to greet us.

"Welcome to Svelte, please let us know if we can do anything to help you," she said curtly to Genie and I, eyes lingering on my untidy ponytail and Genie's clear plastic shoes.

"Actually, we were hoping you could bring us your most recent arrivals," Rob leaned forward, flashing the attendant a quick smile.

She pursed her lips, inclined her head and stalked away. She had hardly noticed from whom she was taking orders. I guess she'd seen plenty of stars, what was one more?

We sat down on uncomfortable chairs. I glanced around the room, absorbing the energy; the décor was sparse, the color palate grey and brown. It wasn't the most welcoming environment. There was also a complete lack of clothes. Three racks total. Each with about five items of clothing. This place was kind of ridiculous.

The woman was back, wheeling out another rack of clothing. This rack had quite a few more garments, all in dark steely colors. Rob stood up and flicked through them, pulling out a few button down shirts and pair of pinstripe pants. He waved us over.

Genie and I walked warily towards the rack laden with clothing. The fabrics were all luxurious, expensive cashmere sweaters and soft silk tank tops. Up close, they weren't quite as dull as they had looked from the couch. A slinky top caught my eye. It was the color of graphite, yet it had a sheen to it. Woven threads of silver glimmered as I took it into my hands. The fabric was fluid, slipping through my fingers as I almost dropped it. The shirt was tight at the top, meant to be fitted in the chest. It flowed loosely around the bottom, hanging limply from the t-back. I wanted it. I could tell it was a cut that would flatter my torso, skimming over my tummy. I glanced at the price, 350 dollars. I bit my lip and decided to buy it with my emergency credit card, my dad wouldn't mind. The first indulgence in two years, I had hardly abused it they way he had worried I would.

"Would you like to buy this?" the saleswoman was at my side in an instant, pulling the shirt from my hands.

"Uh, yeah," I spoke on the spot.

"This all? Or would you care to look around some more?" She waited expectantly.

"Um, no. Just the shirt," I followed her to the counter in the back where she rang up my shirt.

"356.80" She announced, fixing me with the coldest stare of my life.

I pulled the shiny, gold credit card from my wallet, flinching as her fake red nails scratched my fingers as she took it from me. One painless second later the card was flat on the table, next to a waiting receipt and pen. I signed quickly, trying not to think about how I would explain my sudden need for such an extravagant shirt.

Rob was behind me, his armful of clothing hanging heavy on his arm. He smiled at me.

"Found something?"

"Yeah, just this top. It's gorgeous," I shrugged at him, and walked back towards Genie. I afraid to talk in this place, it bare walls and floors made my voice echo, bouncing off the cavernous ceiling.

Back out in the open and brilliant sunlight, I felt more comfortable. Rob was smiling, clearly happy that he had other clothes to wear than the ones on his back. We babbled about the people on the street, laughing at the old men tanned to a crisp as they sped by in vintage sports. The air was light, not as oppressive as the day before, and I felt my sullenness lift as Rob looked at me intently. He ignored the admiring girls as we stopped in shop after shop, didn't throw them as much of a fleeting glance as we sat on a sidewalk café, sipping on cool lemonade. I was getting used to his intense stare, although it still sent my head reeling when he would suddenly rest his eyes on me, catching me by surprise. Genie had spent her money wisely, finding a way to buy bags more than my one top. Rob spied me eyeing a gold locket, and had bought it for me despite my profuse protests. It opened delicately, with space for two photos inside. I knew whose face was going to be occupying those spots.

The day had worked out beautifully, carefree, despite its despondent beginning. We had laughed and joked all day. Rob's shoulder would occasionally rub against mine, sending a nervous shock through my whole body. Frequently, I fell backwards or sideways, and his hands were always there, catching me and steadying me before I had even noticed my imbalance. We all sang along with the Jesse McCartney song Genie played on the ride back to The Palazzio. The sun was setting, a lavender haze settling into the city. Her music selection was starting to awe me, I had no idea she had such a variety of sound in her ipod.

We all collapsed in a pile on the bed, bags thrown haphazardly around us. I landed next to Rob, his arm gently holding my neck. The electricity that had building all day buzzed we lay next to each other. His lips found mine before I had time to think. The quick and chaste kiss lingered as he pulled himself off of me and started punching numbers into his phone.

"Hey man…oh you heard? Yeah, it's over," he looked at me longingly. "It's whatever, anyway I was wondering if you and the guys wanted to meet some friends of mine? We could get drinks or something."

Genie sat up as he finalized plans. I could see her eyes twinkle in anticipation.

"Well, do you guys want to go clubbing?" he asked us, sliding his phone shut.

"YESS!" Genie bolted from the bed and rummaged through her new purchases. Extracting a sequined tank top and white shorts, she set to work taking the tags off.

"Good! We'll meet the guys at this club called 3, 2, 1… at like, 10ish. But we can move to another place if it's weak," he detailed.

"Cool, sounds like fun! Let us get ready, and then we can go find some dinner," I hopped off the bed and ran for my new top. It was perfect to wear clubbing. I would wear it with the one pair of cool shorts I had brought. They were killer short, black with rivets in the pockets. A pair of teal heals and I was set. Finally, a painless, easy outfit that I knew I looked great in.

Genie bustled around the room, spritzing perfume on her bohemian scarf, smacking her lips with red lipstick. She turned to me and gave me a pouty stare.

"Shmexy??"

"Ooh la la," I replied, rolling my eyes at Rob.

He chuckled, sitting on a chair, looking picture perfect. He'd swapped his old jeans for a pair of new black jeans. His shirt was now white, brilliantly showing off the undulating copper and bronze in his hair. He was sitting directly in front of the mirror, which I needed to do my makeup. I squished past him, digging my hips into the table to avoid rubbing against him. Despite my efforts, my ass was still rudely pushed in his face as I leaned over the table to fix my eye shadow. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me down onto his lap but keeping me straight, so I could still use the mirror. I smiled at my reflection, pleased to see I had achieved the perfect smoky eye and dark lashes look I had been going for.

"You smell really good," he murmured into my hair, making my arms tingle with goose bumps.

"Let's GO!" Genie interrupted us, standing at the door, her hand on her hip. I shot her a dirty look before standing up reluctantly. "I'm finally gonna get some ASS!" She whispered as I walked by her. She failed to amaze me, that girl was one giant hormone. I let her take the lead down the hallway, and Rob hung back too. We watched her as she stomped down the hallway. Rob took my hand and pulled me after her. I felt like tonight was going to be fun.


	10. The Lights

I could hear the music pulsing from outside the low building. A line of people, men and women dressed to the nines, queued outside the door. Rob pulled me forward, Genie tagging behind, up to the burly bouncer. He shouted something at the man, and the security guard nodded, letting us pass easily through. Two girls in the front of the line screamed, "That's Robert Pattinson!" Their hair was vamped and curled, falling in thick tresses over sparkly dresses. Killer legs and tight cores, these girls were the cream of the West Beverly Hills crop. Rob ignored them, tugging my hand harder, moving us faster into the nightclub. We walked down a dark hallway, mirrored walls flashing periodically, illuminating our figures. The floor lit up as we walked over it, counting backwards from ten.

_10, 9, 8, 7…_

Genie giggled with delight behind me, grasping my shoulders and jumping excitedly. Ahead, I could hear the bass throbbing—just beyond the next curve.

_6, 5, 4…_

Rob turned back to look at me.

"You're going to love these guys," he yelled over the reverb. "They're awesome!"

I smiled.

_3, 2, 1…_

Bright lights blinded me, flashbulbs burst in my face. Spots of color followed my vision as I tried to see where the light came from. Cameras whirred and shuttered as the music grew louder. Finally, the sea of paparazzi cleared enough for me to see the actual nightclub. A bar lined the far wall, housing tall bottles of liquor in mirrored square shelves, multi-colored lights spotted the bar itself. A crowded dance floor sprung and swayed in time to the beat. Bodies bumped and ground, drinks sloshed and spilled. One hot mess. Booths were tucked into the corners, plushy red and rounded. Loud speakers covered the ceiling and balcony, blasting the music down on the dancers. Genie shrieked with glee, and I couldn't help but grin ear to ear.

"This way!" Rob pushed me in front of him, steering me towards a booth in the back. Four men and one girl occupied it. The girl sat in the middle of the guys, her creamy pale skin glowing under the alternating lights. Fiery red hair was swooped into a side ponytail, pushed off her face with a glittering black headband. Her face showed little evidence of makeup, her green eyes hidden beneath long curling black lashes. She was laughing at something the man beside her said. She was absolutely stunning. I was worried.

The four men beside her weren't too bad themselves. The far one on the left, closest to us, had a buzz cut. Tattoos decorated his neck and shoulders, set off by bulging muscles and white wife-beater. His back was to us, but I could see from his profile that his face was strong, chiseled and masculine. The man next to him was much smaller. He was clad in a blazer and grey t-shirt. His dark hair curled gracefully into his sparkling blue eyes. Although not as bulky as the man beside him, he was still sculpted. The third man, on the other side of the girl, had his hood pulled low over his face, covering it in shadows. All that was visible was his strong chin, dotted with stubble. His jacket was zipped halfway up, revealing a tan brawny chest. The last man was boyish-looking. He had a young face and slight frame. Tan hair was groomed to sweep across his forehead, enhancing green eyes and high cheekbones. He wore a baseball shirt, trying to appear heavier. All of the men looked vaguely familiar, like I'd seen them before. The girl, however, was completely foreign. She looked like she'd been picked out of a silent movie set and dropped in between these four men. They looked rather out of place with each other, as though assembled at random. Their one unified attribute was their attractiveness. Each guy oozed sexiness, charisma.

They looked up, one by one as Rob, Genie and I drew nearer. Suddenly 10 eyes were upon me, raking me up and down, evaluating me. I was nervous that I didn't match up, that they would pull Rob aside later and ask him what the hell he was thinking.

"Rob! Hey!" They each called out to us as soon as we were within earshot.

"Hey guys. So this is Audrey, and Genie. They're from San Francisco," Rob introduced us, ushering me into the booth next to the man in the wife beater. He slid in next to me. Genie frowned at him, forcing herself by the younger boy across the table.

"Audrey, Genie—this is Channing," he motioned to the man I sat beside.

"Hi! Um, Rob you fag, everyone calls me C," the man next to me nodded at me, meeting my eyes with an appreciative wink. So he did find me suitable?

"Shut up," Rob said in a deadpan voice. "This one is Steven," gesturing to the man with dark hair, who smiled in a quick response. His face was brooding and achingly handsome.

"That's Dorrie," pointing out the breathtaking redhead. She looked Genie and I over before pursing her lips in a greeting.

"That one over there is Zac," he nodded his head at the man next to Genie. He flipped his hair and smiled, megawatt bright at me.

"And this one is little Vicky," he stated proudly, introducing the hooded man.

"I'm not Vicky!" The man sat up, his hood falling back a little. His features were rough and savage, but carnally attractive. He stared up from underneath thick eyebrows, his eyes still in the shadows. His hair was cropped short, enhancing his features. He spoke with a British accent, but the end of his words caught in his mouth, as if English was not his first language. "I'm Stan!" He muttered angrily, shoving his hand out of his pockets to shake mine. It was colossal. I grabbed the giant paw, my entire hand obscured. I looked over at Genie who's face had become wildly ecstatic. She was speechless, dreamily extending her hand to the man.

It suddenly dawned on me who these people were. Here beside me, was Channing Tatum. Channing Tatum. Channing Tatum, from Step Up and She's The Man, prince of teen chick flicks. He was just as hunky in person as he was in his movies—always the tough guy who finds his sensitive side while falling in love with a pretty but unique girl. Next to him was Steven Strait. The man in the movie 10,000 B.C. I remembered that Camilla Belle had been in that movie. Interesting. I still couldn't place the girl, she was unfamiliar. Genie was sitting next to Zac Efron, of course. My sister would have died on the spot. I could tell he was new to this group, the kid trying to run with the big boys. But the one who caught me by the most surprise, the one who had Genie's head spinning on her shoulders, Stanislav Ianevski. Stan. Vicky, Rob had called him. Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory's arch-rival in the Tri-wizard Tournament.

I was floored, all these stars in one place, at one table, just to talk to me. I hadn't realized Rob was friends with my favorite actors in Hollywood. This could get complicated. Well, not really, none of them measured up to his sexiness in my eyes.

"Hi!" I smiled my cutest smile to all of them. Their conversations resumed, Dorrie suddenly whispering in Stan's ear. Steven taking a swig from his glass. Zac turned and started talking to Genie, snaking his arm around her. She wasn't listening, she was still staring at Stan. Channing or "C" looked over at me. I grimaced inwardly at his choice of nickname.

"So you're from the Bay?" He asked.

"Yup, San Francisco," I answered.

"Oh! The Sco!" He exclaimed, lifting his hands and leaning back, pure thizz on his face.

I snorted, throwing my head down on the table as a fit of uncontrollable laughter shook through me. I knew I probably shouldn't be laughing at Channing Tatum, but he was just so, so, so ridiculous. Here he was, partying it up in a Beverly Hills nightclub with five other celebrities, and he still put on his hood act.

"What!?" He yelled at me, confused.

"Um, nothing. Sorry, your face just kinda…made me laugh for a second, that's all," I covered, trying to be nice.

"Oh." He looked around, Rob had disappeared to the bar. He leaned closer to me, touching his forehead to mine. "So, you're cute," he told me, as sat, forehead to forehead.

My insides squirmed. Channing Tatum thought I was cute. Too bad I thought he was kind of lame.

"Thanks," I giggled flirtatiously, milking it for all it's worth. Hey, you only get to flirt with guys like this every once in a while.

"So, Rob's got you on lock or what?" He asked, scooting closer.

"Um, not quite," I answered, wondering just what I was to Rob.

"Great! Care to dance?" He asked, jumping off the booth bench and extending his hand. Despite his absurd antics, he was incredibly smoking.

"Depends. Did you actually do the dance scenes in Step Up?" I asked him, holding my hand back.

"How 'bout you come dance with me, and you decide," he flourished his hand again.

"Alright." I placed my hand in his and he helped me out of the booth towards the dance floor. As we entered the mass of bodies, his hands pulled my hips to him. We were surrounded by the music, inside of its every beat and pulse. Each throb reverberated inside of me. I rocked and dipped in time. Channing Tatum ground up against me, holding me tight to him. I could feel his hand shift as he hugged me close with one arm, and lifted the other to join mine in the air. He spun me around until I was facing him. He was a good dancer. Maybe he did do those scenes in Step Up. Several times he ran his hand along my jaw, tilting it up towards him. But each time, I looked down or away. I realized suddenly that Genie was dancing next to me; Zac Efron had her in a vice-like hold, they were gyrating wildly with abandon. Channing Tatum's hands moved around my back, sliding down to my ass, pulling me back to him. I wished it was Rob I was dancing with.

"Sorry, I need something to drink," I muttered up at the chiseled creature before me before disentangling myself from his arms and forcing my way out of the crowd. Hands clutched at me, trying to reel me in as I labored towards the booth in the far corner. Rob was sitting with Stan and Dorrie, laughing.

Finally, I escaped from the throng of damp people, and managed to sink into the seat beside Rob.

"Hey! I'd wondered where you'd gone!" His face brightened at the sight of me, pulling me up against his side. This felt so much better.

"Watch out! I might be a little sweaty," I winced at him, wiping my forehead clean of moisture.

"Not too bad, I don't think," he reassured me. God, could he get more perfect? "I got you a drink. I'm not quite sure what you like, so I just made it a martini." He pushed the triangular glass of clear liquid towards me.

"Thanks!" I cried, swallowing half the drink in one gulp. It stung and burned down my throat, but I held back my normal reaction. I stayed composed, though inside I screamed for a chaser.

I looked up at Stan and Dorrie. She was nestled up against him, but he looked disinterested.

"Are they together?" I whispered in Rob's ear, nodding towards them.

"Eh, yeah. Stan's not so into it, but he tells me she's basically a nympho, so he's down," he said, chuckling.

"Oh! I hope she breaks up with him, and not the other way around!" I exclaimed, feeling bad for the girl. I downed the rest of martini with ease, waiting for the alcohol to take it's effect. Glancing at Rob's drink, I noticed he'd already finished a scotch and water, and was working on a second.

"So, what scotch do you drink?" I asked, nudging his glass.

"It changes, I try to get this one kind from the Highlands, but it's rare in this country. This one's Lismore," he clinked my empty martini glass with his and guzzled the last of his drink. "Time for another! You look ready for a refill, too. Let's go."

We headed over to the bar. Rob threw back two shots before asking for more drinks. I hoped Genie wasn't drinking too much, I didn't want to have to take a cab back to our shameful motel.

As we made our way back to our booth, I could see Dorrie yelling at Stan. He just sat there, his face unreadable as she shrieked and hollered. She banged her purse against the table, and stalked away, though not before casting a chilling stare at him.

"Uh oh, looks like trouble," I giggled into Rob's chest, wobbling a little.

"Hah, yeah happens basically every night," he slurred. "You know, you really are beautiful. One of a kind beauty," he said suddenly, saying his words clearly. He fixed me with a stare, his body slightly swaying but his face unclouded. "You are one of the most gorgeous girls I've ever seen."

I stared at him, taken aback. Me? Gorgeous? HAH. I rolled my eyes at him and nudged him playfully in the ribs.

"You're sweet," I told him. "But very drunk, sir."

"So? It doesn't change how incredible you are," he insisted, flattering me again. I looked at him in disbelief, why would Rob Pattinson be saying this to me? It would have been a truly wonderful compliment if it wasn't so preposterous.

"Well, you're not too bad yourself," I answered him. Playing into his game. He grinned foppishly and hoisted me back onto the booth.

"Bad luck, Stan," he offered. Stan grunted and shrugged. He really didn't care. His hood was back up and he glowered menacingly across the room. All of sudden Genie bounded up to the booth. She glided in, bumping into Stan. She giggled.

"Woops, excuse me!"

She had been drinking. Her eyes were bright and flashing, her cheeks flushed. I saw Zac Efron glance longingly up at her before heading towards the bathroom.

"Don't worry about it," Stan said. It was a record number of words. His Bulgarian accent made his comment musical. He had pulled his hood off again and flashed an animalistic smile at Genie. She flushed ever pinker, leaning her face on her elbow.

"So Stan, huh? I think Vicky has a nice ring to it," she ran her finger along his forearm.

"No. Vicky does not have a nice ring to it. I'm Stan," he countered, lifting his lips in a proud snarl.

"Whatever you say. Do you remember my name?" She cocked her head , fixing him with a stare.

"Yes! You're I Dream of Jeanie," he uttered, smiling to himself at his little joke.

"You do!? That's flattering," she riffed, trying to be coy and fawning at the same time. Stan looked confused for a second.

"Oh! Haha! You're a funny girl," he replied, such a wit!

"People say that. Wanna dance with me?" She lifted one eyebrow provocatively, tightening her grip on his hand.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, obviously excited. She ran with him to the dance floor, disappearing behind a wall of people.

I looked at Rob, who had been watching the entire exchange just like me.

"Wow, he really likes her," Rob said firmly, shaking his head. "He hardly ever talks, more the strong and silent type."

"I figured."

I realized we were alone, tucked away in this private booth. The music still blared around us, but it was reduced to a faint buzz, as he leaned in to kiss me. He played with my hair, as our lips sank into one another's. His tongue gently roved around my mouth—he tasted sweet, like a delicious cocktail. Our mouths moved in time to the music, growing fiercer with each climbing chord. He crushed me to him, and I let my hands drift up to his hair. I tangled and knotted the soft strands, wrapping my fingers up in their thickness. His hand traveled to my ass, grabbing it and lifting me onto his lap. I straddled him, my hands now framing his face. Keeping it positioned directly in front of mine. I knew I looked like a cheap Vegas whore, but I kept kneeling over him, letting him run his hands all over my body. We flipped, and I was suddenly lying flat on the cushions, he hovered over me, keeping his weight off of me. We stopped kissing for a second and just stared at each other. I just laid and enjoyed his pure perfection. The lights from the dance floor played across his face.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" I found myself whispering up at him, my hand brushed his cheek. He smiled evilly and nodded. We stood up and rearranged our clothing.

"Let me just find Genie and tell her to take a cab home, she's way too gone to drive." I shouted at him as I dove into the masses to find Genie. I searched high and low, my eyes scanning the teeming multitudes for her sequined top and curly hair. I pushed my way through couples, threesomes, foursomes—all dancing so offensively I almost wanted to pull them apart, like a middle school dance chaperone. Finally I spotted her. I spotted her mop of hair and bare leg next to the DJ booth. Her hands were circled around a man's bare back, her legs wound tightly against his. I screamed for her attention, running around to the other side. Genie and Stan's faces were obscured as they fiercely made out, his large hands holding her up against him. Wow. They were basically having sex on the dance floor. Not wanting to interrupt the moment, I fought my way back to Rob. I sent her a text message, telling her what I was doing, and leaving specific instructions for Stan. Hopefully, she would get home alright. Rob assured me that she would, Stan would take good care of her.

He bound his arm around my waist, tugging me snug to him. We walked down the mirrored hallway, wrapped in each other's arms. The cool night air rushed into my face as the door swung open. The warm glow from the street lamps was a welcome change of lighting, I could finally see. A roar emitted from the people outside, still waiting. We stumbled around, waving down a taxi which screeched to a halt beside us. He let me clamber in first, never letting go of my hand. As the door slammed shut, quiet descended. A low buzzing still rang in my ears, but I felt much less intoxicated. The taxi driver turned and asked us where to go.

"Four Seasons," I heard Rob say briskly, as he massaged my shoulders. I sighed in comfort and leaned against him, letting him hold me. My eyes started to droop shut as the taxi stopped moving, I felt myself suddenly go weightless. I wasn't walking but I was rapidly flying across the entrance lobby of the Four Season's Hotel. My arms were tight around Rob's neck, his strong arms carrying me easily. I caught one last glimpse of his face before falling into a stupor. My cheek was nestled against his chest, I could feel it expand and contract with each breath as the gentle repetition lulled me to sleep.


	11. The Steam

**LEMONS...well not thaaaat much**

I woke to the sound of a gentle humming. My head was resting on Rob's stomach, my arms draped across his body; his hand softly stroking my hair, our legs entwined with one another's. Our bodies rose in and fell in one singular motion, as though sharing one breath between us. He was reading a book, the small type font blurred in my grogginess. I had a dull headache, pounding persistently in the front of my head: ugh hangover.

His voice vibrated melodically in his chest, he was humming Bittersweet Symphony by the Verve. Each note swelled and heaved as the song slowly wound its way to a climax. The bed was soft beneath us, down and luxurious. A small blanket was tucked around my legs, keeping me warm. I smiled into his shirt, breathing in his wonderfully sweet scent. He'd noticed I was awake and looked down at me, dropping his book on the bed. The room was swathed in golden light, ocher shadows dancing across the cream colored walls. His eyes sparkled as he gazed down at me, his mouth turning up at the corners in a genuine smile. I pulled myself up to meet his face, giving him one slow kiss before disentangling myself.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his brow creased.

"To take a shower," I stated, and flounced into the bathroom.

I heard him sigh as he rolled off the bed to pull back the curtains. The room was suddenly glowing with light, the midday sun illuminating each nook and cranny. I stepped into the bathroom, my jaw dropping as I took in the lavish fixtures. The floor was smooth and tiled, creamy stone matching the alabaster sconces on the wall. The shower and Jacuzzi bathtub were hewn out of marbleized granite, green and gold flecks catching the light. Gold faucets and taps adorned the two-sink counter. A folded pile of fluffy eggshell towels stacked neatly behind the tub. I giggled with delight as I turned the taps in the bathtub, letting water jet out and fill the basin. It bubbled and frothed as I poured in the complimentary bath gel, making giant suds foam to the top. Steam rose from the hot water as I dipped my toe in, gently sliding into the inviting liquid. It covered me, encasing me in a warm bind, slowly relaxing the tension in my neck and shoulders. I exhaled in comfort, blowing a tiny ball of fluff onto the floor. As wonderful as the bath felt, as relaxing as it was as it the steam fogged around me, I wanted to be finished. I wanted to be back in Rob's arms, feeling them envelop me instead of the deliciously scented water. I washed my hair quickly and stood up. The water rolled in rivulets down my body, the bath had coated my skin in a smooth sheen leaving me soft and moisturized. I grabbed one of the fluffy towels and wrapped it around me, covering myself with it like a cloak. I slipped back into my clothes, still anxious about how I looked, and I studied my face in the mirror. Not that bad, my makeup had magically stayed on, just slightly toned down. Perfect.

I skipped back into the room and grabbed my cell phone; calling my mom first to assure her I was alive. Then I dialed Genie, I had to find out what happened last night. Her phone went straight to voicemail, a hair-raising laugh as her greeting message before the operator's voice saying, "Press 1 to leave a message…"

"Genie! Call me back! Did you get back to the hotel all right? I'm coming back over there in like…" I looked over at Rob who was combing his hair and checking his cell, "well I'm not sure, but call meee!" I snapped the phone off and sidled up to him.

"Stan took her back to his place," he said, reading the text on his phone.

"Really? Uh oh," I grimaced, hoping nothing too major had happened. Genie wasn't stupid; she knew when to stop with a guy. Granted, she'd been with many guys, I thought with a pang of envy. Genie was more experienced than me, in many ways. It was so frustrating, so degrading, that we weren't on the same page in that particular area. She'd had countless boyfriends, somehow managing to find the only likable, nice boys at our school. I had gone through high school yearning for someone worth pursuing—but no one had attracted me. Most of the guys were scrawny and underdeveloped, in more ways than just physically, which was such a turnoff. At parties I'd tried to snag the boys from other schools, but that left me with a drunken hookup and nothing more. I craved longevity, a meaningful relationship, or just a relationship, something a little longer than two weeks. I knew that whatever this was with Rob, wasn't going to amount to anything serious, I wasn't that delusional. I was going back home in three days and he was staying here. Still, I wished deep down that I could stay here with him forever, my heart telling me that I somehow belonged with him.

"Don't worry, Stan's a nice guy. He wouldn't have forced her into anything, plus I think Dorrie is still at his place…" he trailed off with a wince. "Hm, that's awkward"

"Wow, yeah," I twisted my face into a worried smile, burying it in his shirt.

"Wanna get some breakfast…I mean, lunch?" He asked.

I was suddenly inspired with an idea. I ran over to the bed, folding my knees under me. I put the most provocative look on my face and patted the bed beside me.

"Why don't we order in," I cooed, biting my lower lip.

Inside I was laughing at my sudden attempt at seduction-why not lose it to Robert Pattinson?

He turned his head questioningly and walked slowly forward. His eyes bored into mine, making my heart thump erratically. My spontaneous idea slowly waned in brilliance in my eyes. I wasn't sure if I was quite ready for this. He leaned on the bed, still standing, never breaking eye contact. What had I gotten myself into? This would only make it harder to go back home.

He moved closer, breathing my air, making my head spin. My tummy started swirling uncomfortably; partly from our proximity, partly by what was about to happen. My lip trembled; I stared into his eyes, trying to mask the fear.

"I think we should get breakfast downstairs," he said suddenly, pulling back. It was as if someone had pulled the plug, cutting the electricity. He didn't want me. The hurt stung, I grasped his hand but looked away, trying to hide the rejection that coursed through me. I was stupid to think he was that into me. I mean, he was an A-List celebrity, a British movie star, what could be carnally appealing about me?

The elevator ride was silent. He kept his arms around me, but I knew it was just to be nice. I could feel a rising lump in the back of my throat; I fought to keep it there, trying to bite back the impending sob. I stared determinedly at the ceiling, hoping to facilitate the evaporation of the moisture that had pooled in my eyes. My breath came slow and unsteady. The elevator pinged our arrival at the breakfast room. I waited for the doors to slide open, waiting for the onslaught of people to force my emotions back into submission. The doors stayed shut. Rob pressed the "Door Close" button again. I looked around, confused.

"Are you crying?" he asked, turning me to face him. I hugged him, trying to keep my face hidden in the folds of his shirt.

"No," I mumbled defiantly.

"Yes, you are," he pulled me away from him, holding me back, studying me carefully with a somber expression. I kept my face neutral, as I gazed back into his eyes.

"Why? Did I say something?" he stared sincerely back at me.

"No, I'm just being silly," I took a deep breath.

"I did say something. What?" He looked genuinely concerned. He searched my face for the reason. God he was thick, how could he not know what he'd just done to me?

"No, no you didn't say anything. It's just me," I replied, hoping he wouldn't ask any more questions. I was worried that bringing up my mediocrity would make it all the more apparent. I brushed my tears away, straightening up, shoving the insecurity deep inside me, away from the surface. I giggled, rolling my eyes, hoping to play it off as a joke. Eyes twinkling and an impossibly large grin stretching across my face, I jumped up and kissed his cheek. "I'm fine, don't even trip."

He looked at me suspiciously, not believing my sudden mood shift, and pressed a button on the elevator. The doors opened with a ping, but a pair of girls walked in. Rob made no move to exit, instead pulling me closer to him as we let the doors slide shut. Confusion rippled through me, tinged with excitement. We were gliding up again, back up to the eleventh floor, back to our room. Hmm.

The two girls in front of us were wearing similar white wife beaters and tight dark jeans. Their clothes hugged their bodies identically, showing off their small waists and curved hips. One was blonde, her manufactured hair hung in placed layers down her back. The other girl had ebony black hair, cut short to hang below her chin in a severe bob. They each carried a clutch purse, acrylic nails biting into the soft leather. They were headed to the twelfth floor. On the fifth floor, they turned their heads.

Their hair didn't sway or move like normal hair does. It simply stayed glued in place as their identical green eyes surveyed Rob and me. Their faces were the same, the same straight nose, the same curved pink mouth, and the same delicate jaw curving to a soft chin. They were both beautiful, and they were twins. Their difference in hair color did little to soften the shock of staring at double. They pouted their lips together, smiling seductively at Rob.

"Hey, you're uh, Robert Pattinson, right?" The blonde spoke first in a nasal voice. She let her eyes wander his body, a devilish look in her face.

"Um, yeah," Rob said good-naturedly, he flashed them an authentic smile. I nearly died it was such a perfect smile.

"Well, we're Stephanie and Courtney Range," the raven-haired siren introduced herself and her twin. "We're twins. And we're in the penthouse."

"That's nice," Rob grinned playfully at them. I seethed with jealousy 1inside, while trying to look as uninterested as possible.

The blonde twirled her hair and licked her lips.

"We love to play. So, hit us up sometime," she murmured, slipping a card into Rob's pocket, letting her hand linger for an uncomfortably long time.

"Sure, that's flattering girls," Rob smiled rakishly.

The elevator finally announced the eleventh floor, the doors pulling apart seamlessly. I peered down the golden hallway with relief, desperate to get Rob away from the beautiful and terribly horny twins. But Rob tugged me instead; I was still rooted to the spot, obsessing over their immaculate teeth and skin.

"Aud, come on," Rob said lightly, grasping one of my hands with both of his. I woke up and scowled at the pretty whores, stomping out of the elevator and into the hallway.

"Wow," Rob exclaimed, his nose wrinkled. "What downright tramps."

I held back my laughter. His British accent made his intended insult seem ridiculous.

"What? I thought you'd be used to that by now," I trilled.

"To that? Ugh God, no. They were ugly, too," his face contorted in disgust.

"Please, they were not ugly. They were pretty attractive," I defended the elevator girls. If he thought they were ugly, what did he think I was?

"Are you kidding? They look like every girl in L.A." He said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, I guess. So you're not going to uhh, hit them up sometime…to play?" I asked, repeating the girl's words.

"No, I'd rather play with someone else," he said, his expression suddenly molding into a provocative stare.

_What? _

"What?"

The seductive gleam immediately vanished, replaced with a bashful look away and dull red blush.

"Oh, uh nothing. Sorry," he mumbled.

_Hold on, Rob Pattinson is insecure around ME?_

"No, I kinda want to play, too." I smiled, elated by the sudden role reversal.

A hopeful smile flashed across his face. The confidence returned, his eyebrows wiggling absurdly.

In an instant we were through the door, across the room, on the bed. His hands gripped my body tightly to his, mine running up his back, into his hair, down his face. He kissed me with ferocity, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck. We were drowning in a whirlwind of pillows and hormones. The soft white duvet billowed around us as we fell deeper into the bed. I hungrily began unfastening his shirt, my fingers deftly removing the buttons as he wriggled my shorts down to my ankles. Our movements became faster, more desperate as the clothes peeled away.

Suddenly the door opened. We froze, staring at the intruder. A swarthy maid bustled into the room with a pile of towels. She hummed absentmindedly to herself, kicking the door shut with her heel. She stopped short as she caught sight of us staring at her. Her eyes widened in horror, her mouth hanging open in shock. Panic flooded her face as she threw the towels in the air and ran shrieking from the room.

We laughed, but her interruption brought reality to the situation. We lay there half undressed, still wrapped up in each other, but the urgency was absent. He looked at me anxiously.

"You sure?"

I nodded. I knew that this was going to lessen me in his eyes. This was going to diminish me to all of his other fan trysts. I forced the thought out of my head, concentrating on how many times I had dreamed of this moment.

He cocked his head to the side, still not completely sold. I rolled my eyes and crushed my lips to his. My hands knotted in his hair as I tried to shove his pants off with my feet. The jeans slid down his legs, taking the boxers with them. He chuckled onto my chest as he kicked off his bottoms. My shirt was off before I noticed, my bra unclipped. He climbed over me skillfully, pulling me up to him. Our bodies pressed against each other's, I could feel the racing of his heart. His large warm hands traveled down my front, easing my legs apart. I knew it was coming. This was it. I drew in a hasty shaky breath and buried my face in his.

FINALLY I WASN'T A VIRGIN.

_YAY!_


	12. The Heart to Heart

My phone buzzed and jostled on the nightstand

My phone buzzed and jostled on the nightstand. The late afternoon sun dimmed the room, light peeking through the blinds hesitantly. I was warm, snuggled tight against Rob as he dozed. His arms held me tightly, and I found myself in a chokehold as I tried to gently reach my cell. My movement shook the bed, springy bounces fluffing the pillows and down comforter. The silky bedding soothed my skin, cooling my flushed cheeks.

"Hello?" I whispered into the phone.

"AUDREY!! OH MY GOD! I have soooo much to tell you!" Genie's voice crackled over the poor reception. "And I bet you have like, TONS to tell me!"

"Yeah I do! So where are you right now?"

"I'm back at our hotel getting some clothes," she answered in a matter-of-fact voice I heard a low voice in the background.

"You alone?"

"Ummm, not quite."

"Yeah me neither, actually I can't talk RIGHT now. I'll call you a little later. Let's meet up after dinner or something?" I asked, checking the clock. It was 3:45, where had the day gone?

"Sure thing!" She crooned into the phone and the line went dead.

I turned around, still on my stomach as I rolled back towards Rob. I wasn't tired anymore, but it felt so nice to just lay here in his arms. They lay limply on the bed, his chest rising and falling softly with each breath. I glanced at his face, peaceful and relaxed and perfect. I crawled to his side, resting my chin on his toned tummy as I pulled his arm around me. He smiled but his eyes didn't open, instead; he hugged me close and tilted his head toward mine, leaning his cheek on the top of my head. I sighed in contentment.

"That was Genie?" His low voice startled me as I felt it rumble deep within his chest.

"Yeah, I think she's still with Stan," I said, staring into his eyes.

"Of course," he shrugged with a smiled, playing with my hair.

As he held me close, I knew it was time for me to say something. Time to address the elephant in the room. To finally discuss what had just happened, what it meant—to each of us. I turned my face so I was staring at the wall, away from his distracting smile.

"So, uh, you know, just add me to your list of adoring fans," I stated lightly, casually.

"I'm a fan of you," he replied simply, not grasping what I had said.

"Sure ok," I responded in a silly voice, disregarding his cheesy comment to take the plunge. "That's not really what I meant though."

"What did you mean?"

"Welll, I meant like, I've knowingly committed myself to being one of those girls…" I said, sounding more ridiculous with each word.

"Like one of what girls?"

"Ugh, you know? One of those girls that you've fucked," I said, spitting out the last word with disdain.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because, I am."

I was trying to force myself into reality, attempting to crush my own hopes of an actual relationship by stating the harsh facts.

"If you thought that's how I would think of you, why'd you do anything with me?" He asked, sounding a little irritated.

"Um, well I've had maybe the hugest crush in the history of the world on you since Harry Potter," I said in a rush, staring pointedly at the wall.

"So I'm just a celebrity crush?" Now he was starting to sound a little hurt.

His words threw me for a loop. If he only knew just how much more he'd been than a celebrity crush. If he'd known the hours I'd spent watching pointless homemade youtube montages of him, the countless times I'd watched all of his interviews for every movie. If he knew that I only watched the parts of the fourth Harry Potter movie with him in it. That I'd printed picture after picture of him to collage my bulletin board. That I'd laid in bed at night, dreaming of him. That I'd decided to come to L.A. for a vacation just in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him. Way more than a celebrity crush. Celebrity obsession, maybe.

"I think more than that," I said artfully, deciding against revealing my creepy stalker side.

"So what? You think that I'm just going to file you away—another notch on my belt?"

I nodded slowly.

"Um, well you're wrong."

I looked up at him quickly. He was staring at me like I was crazy. I returned the expression.

"Audrey, I think you're one of the most incredible people I've ever met," he breathed, looking me straight in the eyes. "You're funny, you're smart, you're charming and, you're beautiful."

My breath caught in my throat. This was another dream wasn't it? Wow did he just actually say that? NO ONE says that. WHO SAYS THAT?

I just stared back at him, bewildered.

"And if you think I'm just going to let you slink away, back to San Francisco without me ever hearing from you again, you're wrong there too."

This made no sense. First, he didn't even want to have sex with me—he wanted to eat lunch instead. Then, he was a little worried that I didn't want to have sex with him. Now, he's saying he wants to stay in touch and he thinks I'm an incredible person.

_!?_

What was I supposed to say to this?

"Well, I'm definitely not going to ignore you if you try and talk to me," I said to him, biting back a fit of the giggles. "But I don't get it."

"What don't you get?"

"Umm, you just confuse me. I mean, you didn't even want me this morning and you were still hesitant in the hallway," I tried to explain to him.

"What made you think that I haven't wanted you?" His voice was incredulous.

"When you said let's eat downstairs after I basically asked you to sex me up," I answered him, monotone.

"You think _I_ didn't want _You_? Are you kidding? I was worried that you didn't like me enough. That I wasn't interesting enough. That I was just some random Hollywood guy that turned out, didn't have as much going for him as you thought," he spilled out in a rush. He looked so vulnerable as he revealed his fear.

I laughed outloud.

"Oh my god Rob, you're adorable! How could you think that?" I managed to stutter out between chuckles. I held his face in my hands and kissed him full on the lips. It felt as if a massive weight had been lifted, I was free. Almost. "But seriously, what about me is so enticing? I'm not exactly a stunner."

Rob just lifted his eyebrows, tucking one strand of my hair behind my ear. "Wow, you're badly informed. I cant really say anymore than that. But you need to grasp just how amazingly attractive you are."

"More than Camilla?" I asked slyly with a small smile, cocking my head.

"Hah! Camilla is hot, yes. But she's shallow and hard and cold. You are also hot, but there's so much more depth to you, so much softness and warmth."

A fuzzy feeling started creeping through me, spreading ticklishly from my tummy all the way to my fingers and toes. My eyes crinkled at his comparison, and I hugged him closer.

The door opened for the second time that day. We were still scantily clad, wrapped in each other's arms—hardly appropriate for company. A different maid hurried into the room. She saw us on the bed and delivered a curt nod. Her hard face and body betrayed no emotion or shock at our near-nakedness. She walked straight to the bathroom, switching out the soaps and shampoos. Surveying the pile of towels on the floor from the previous maid, she clucked her tongue in disapproval. Without a word, she was gone, slamming the door shut. What was up with these maids? They were so weird.

We lay there in silence for another minute, his thumb the back of my hand, my foot tapping in time to the music playing from the iHome. Suddenly, my stomach rumbled. It growled angrily as I hadn't eaten all day.

"I think we should hunt down some dinner before we meet Stan and Genie," Rob said, sitting up.

"Yeah!" I replied, a little overenthusiastic about the idea of food. I jumped off the bed and ran to…oh no suitcase.

"Don't worry, you look fine," Rob read my mind as he ripped his clothes back on, trying to smooth his hair.

"You do too," I smiled back at him, and reached up to re-tousle his hair. "I like it all messy."

"You think? I feel like it's getting kind of out of control."

"Nope. It looks really sexy like this. Like you just got finished having wild sex all night."

"Ok then."

He put his arm around my shoulder, and we walked back down the lovely hallway to the elevators.

"You wanna stay here again tonight?" He asked me as we passed the lobby.

"Oh, well, I don't want to put you out or anything…" I trailed off weakly, I couldn't really think of a good reason to stay at the Palazzio.

"Hardly. We'll sleep here again. It's a tad more comfy than your other room," he snorted, wheeling back to the concierge desk to book our room for another two nights.

I watched as Rob negotiated with the same clerk Genie had asked for motel recommendations a couple nights before. It was so surreal, seeing him there in my presence, caring about me and my well-being, noticing me and my feelings. I shook my head in wonder as he rejoined me and we strolled down the block. Our hands were in one another's back pockets—scandalous—as we searched for somewhere to eat.

Before we ordered at the tiny Falafel Restaurant, Rob suddenly leaned down and kissed me. Quick and fleeting, it stunned me. It dazzled me with bright lights. It took a second before I recognized the now familiar clatter and shutter of paparazzi cameras. I tried to arrange my face to be as attractive and candid as possible. Rob leaned in and kissed my ear, letting his lips linger on my neck, making me gasp with pleasure. Lights flashed around us again. Woops.

Despite the frenetic energy rolling off the photographers, I felt at peace with myself. The clawing and knowing worry that had plagued me since the beginning of time was starting to ebb. The knot in the pit of my stomach began to unravel. Rob and I were on the same page, and there would be dignity about this.

"Shwarma Combo Plate, please."


	13. The Brawl

**PLEASE REVIEW!! I need feedback! And maybe i'll put you in the story if you give me your name... :-D**

**oh and i apologize for typos...**

I spied them a block away. Genie was skipping from foot to foot, a frenzied look on her face. Stan towered over her, his brawny arm slung over her shoulder, a cigarette grasped loosely in his fingers. She was chatting, I could hear her voice rising in hyperbolic exclamations as he nodded, a wild gleam in his eye. I couldn't stop smiling as we neared each other; I was bursting to tell her all my news.

As soon as we made eye contact we screamed, running towards one another, arms outstretched as I yanked my hand from Rob's, Genie ducked from under Stan.

"Oh my GOD! YOU!! What happened!?" she yelled into my face.

"Wow! I have SO much to tell you!" I bubbled. "P.S. Rob and I…you know…?" I whispered quickly. Her eyes widened, and feverish smile spread across her face.

"No! Really? OH MY GOD!" she hissed at me, glancing quickly at Rob.

Stan and Rob stood talking next to us. I let my eyes wander to him, my heart fluttering as I looked at him standing there. His hair had fallen back into his eyes, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, rolled up halfway—showing his strong forearms.

"Wait, so did you and…Stan…uh…?" I asked fervently, giving Stanislav Ianevski the once-over.

He was wearing a European soccer jersey, the white polyester stretched across tanned muscles. His black trousers hung low on his hips, flashing the waistband of his Calvin Klein tidy-whiteys.

Genie pressed her lips together, and shook her head.

"What!? Wait, for real?" I gasped, looking back at Stan. With his tight clothes and muscled physique—maybe he's gay?

"Is he gay?" I asked solemnly, giving the unruffled Genie a worried stare.

She burst out laughing, clutching Stan's massive elbow for support.

"No! Of course not!" she shrieked.

Rob and Stan turned to stare, bemused expressions on their faces. Genie turned hr back to them and started telling me her story in a low frantic voice. However, I was hardly listening as Rob had caught my eye during Genie's outburst. I stared, transfixed by him again, a quick swooping in my stomach. God he was SO YUMMY! He smirked at me, sending my blood into a racing pulse. I could feel my cheeks glowing warm and red as he bit his lip and looked back at Stan.

"…So we get back to his place—which is like, sooo nice! It's kinda ugly on the outside, but he has all these smooth leather chairs and like, really fancy TV's and stuff." I focused on Genie again.

"And he sets me down on this big sofa, because I was a little…you know…" she rolled her eyes, slightly embarrassed by her inability to throw down more than three shots.

"And he went into the kitchen to get some chips, because I REALLY wanted chips, like I was suuuuperrr starving. So I'm just sitting there, kinda like falling asleep when the door opens. And this big ass blonde woman comes in."

I nodded respectfully, not entirely intrigued by her story, but more reflective on my own night.

"Like, she was HUGE! Her ass was basically the size of Jupiter, and she had these gigundooo jugs. SOO gross. So she like, globbed into the room, out of nowhere," Genie was talking fast, her hands gesturing wildly.

"So I'm like, 'Hey, who are you?' and she just looks at me hella creepy and just goes, 'What's it to you, whore?!'" She imitated the other woman's voice in a high-pitched squeal.

"And I was just like, 'Um, excuse me!?' and then from like, behind her rolls of fat, the pretty redhead from the club appears.

"She was all blotchy like she'd been crying, and her hair was a big ol' mess. She looked REALLY ugly," Genie thought back.

"And then, out of the blue, she started yelling at me! She like, threw tissues at me and was calling me reallyyy mean things. And I was just like, sitting there, taking it—because I had NO clue what was happening.

"Then Stan comes like, running out of the kitchen and the redhead, Dorrie, starts yelling at him.

"So basically, they were going out, and they like, JUST broke up last night," She stated, eye wide.

"So I felt really bad, and I was like, 'Stan! How could you do that to her?' and then Whorey (I'm calling her Whorey because she's a ho) turns back to me and goes, 'How dare you talk to him! He's mine!' and Stan just like, flips out and tries to pull me up to drag me away but I'm like, 'Aw HELL NO BITCH!'" Genie's eyes flashed s she retold her story, by which I was now thoroughly intrigued.

"So I like, tackle her and start beating her up. And then the giant blonde ogre starts trying to get me off, so I bit her!" She announced proudly. I cringed.

"Are you serious? You BIT someone?!" I asked incredulously.

"Uh…yeah…heat of passion, you know," Genie mumbled quickly. "So, ANYWAYS, Whorey was still like, pulling my hair. So I got up and just chewed her out. It's not like she has some claim on him, you know?

"So ten, they split, and Stan hugged me and was like, 'Whoa.' So I asked him why they broke up and he told me it was because they didn't see their relationship the same way. Which basically meant that one of them thought they were exclusive, and the other didn't." Genie translated for me, her words coming fast and furious.

"So then I finally get to eat my chips…and it's like, four in the morning so I'm pooped. And I guess I just sorta drifted to sleep," her voice trailed off.

"But then, the phone woke me up! Not my phone because it was on silent but his houseline! It like, rang in my ear and I sat up REALLY quickly which made me punch Stan by accident." She glanced over at the burly man guiltily. "So HE woke up…ad answered the phone and guess who it is?"

"Whorey?" I tried, feeling lucky.

"Yes! And she's like, crying on the phone and telling him how sorry she is and how much she loves him. And it's AWKWARD!!" She drew out the final syllables. "Because, you know? I'm like, RIGHT THERE!

"So then, Stan finally says into the phone in his adooorrrablleee little accent, 'Dorrie, we've pushed this as far as we can go. I'll always care about you but we both know it's over.'" Genie looked at me, awed by his words.

"Then she cried more and hung up on him as he was saying they could still be friends—classic! Then I looked at him and I asked if I was the rebound girl. And he told me that Dorrie had been the rebound from some extra from Harry Potter, and I was definitely NOT the rebound.

"So I got really happy and decided to make him some eggs!"

I rolled my eyes, "You would."

"And then it was like, noonish and I felt gross so we both took showers," she rushed, and I rose my eyebrows. "Not together!" She sighed in exasperation.

"So then we went back to our hotel to get clothes and stuff. OH! HERE!" Genie handed me a shopping bag full of jeans and shirts. "I figured you were staying there again. Where are you staying again?"

"The Four Seasons. We have like, this GORGEOUS room with this big fluffy bed and…" I gushed, catching Rob's eye again.

He came over and snaked his arm around my waist, bumping our hips together. I suppressed a giggle, trying to keep my composure in front of Genie and Stan.

We walked as a foursome down the street, gabbing about the passerby and…Harry Potter, what else?

I was disappointed; I wanted to talk about Twilight with Rob. Though to be honest, I was a tad afraid to broach the subject. Twilight fans had become notorious creepers towards their life-version of Edward Cullen. Crazed fan I was though, I knew the movie was due out in a few months. I had behind Rob the whole way—way back when people were ragging on production for casting him. I had stayed strong, quick to defend on every Internet message board. God I was a loser.

Night was falling swiftly in LA. The end of another day; heralded by neon restaurant signs and speeding headlights. Skyscrapers rose magnificently above us as we searched for somewhere to sit. Rob stopped us at a shabby pub; the shingles hanging haphazardly off the grimy windows. Bass laden music was playing inside, enhancing the smell of stale beer and peanuts mingled with the thick cigarette smoke. Stan directed us to a tale in the back, tucked behind a colossal pool table.

We sat at a thick round table, roughly hewn out of heavy oak. Coarse edges threatened splinters as I wedged myself onto the stonewall bench. The cool stone startled me, a sharp contrast to the muggy atmosphere of the pub. It was so authentic. Just the sort of place you'd find on the streets of London. Of course Rob and Stan would come here.

The green glass lamps cast an eerie glow, providing the only light in the room. The oppressive climate only intensified with the consistent buzz of chatter; it was hard to see, hear or breathe.

Rob's arm draped over my shoulders, his hands tracing circles on my collarbone. Genie was sitting on a chair nearby Stan, trying to talk him into an arm wrestling match.

"C'mon! You're just afraid you're gonna lose!" She teased, poking his chest.

"We both know who'll lose—I'm trying to protect your pride!" he insisted, catching her hand and pulling her close.

"Please. You know I could take you!" Genie insisted, shoving him back playfully.

I buried my face in Rob's shirt, trying to hide my disgusted expression. Wow they were gross. Watching shameless flirting is SUCH a painful experience. And then a thought crossed my mind. Did Rob and I look like that? Did we look so disgusting? I decided I didn't care and lifted my chin to look at him. His boyish grin played across his face, making my breath shorten. He ruffled my hair and kissed me, our lips melting into each other's. I sighed dreamily, wrapping my arms around him, hugging myself close to his body.

The crash of pool balls reached my ears, the incessant clacking of hard plastic ricocheting, the dull thud against the felted banks of the pool table.

I looked at Rob, a stroke of brilliance flashing in my head.

"Hey, you play pool right?" I asked him/

"Sure, everyone plays pool. Why? Do you?"

"Uh huh." I smiled suspiciously. I was basically a pool champion. But he didn't know that. "A little."

"You wanna play?"

I nodded and sprang up, grabbing his hand as I led him to the wall of queues. I snatched the shortest one I could find, dusting the tip with powdery blue chalk.

The table lay abandoned, its previous players counting their cash.

I expertly lined the balls up, setting them in a triangle. Then I decided to be sneaky. I leaned over the table coquettishly, letting my shorts rise up dangerously on my legs. I crossed my arms, allowing my shirt to dip lower.

"Wanna go first?" I asked.

"Alright. Hold on, what are we playing for?" he eyed me over the tip of the pool stick.

"Umm…I don't know." I replied, twisting a strand of hair and batting my eyelashes innocently.

"Hm, interesting." He smirked and took the first shot. The queue connected with the triangle of balls, sending them shooting off in every direction.

He stabbed the white ball; it skimmed across the surface, nudging a striped green ball into the pocket. He repositioned himself, lining the stick up, aiming at the currant-colored stripe ball. I could se this going all in his favor, fast--so I interfered. I turned my back to him from across the table, gently setting my body on the edge. I spread my arms out, leaning back, stretching as I took in a deep breath, my back arching, my hair cascading down way past my shoulders. I shook it slightly and turned around, leaning back down on the edge of the table. I pressed my arms, enhancing my cleavage throwing on my cutest face.

Rob had stopped and was watching me warily, his eyes searching the room for any competition. As if. I licked my lips and looked away impatiently. He jabbed the white ball, it went spinning off target, bouncing lamely from the bank of the table.

"My turn!" I cried, spying the best shot—a threatening double—but firmly ignored it to keep my plan intact. I stretched my back, sticking my ass out and holding in my tummy. Then I moved the stick and sent the white ball flying into the solid yellow. It skipped into the pocket, but slowly. I pulled a face, trying to look enthused by my mediocre display.

"That was really good, huh?" I asked him, trying to look as sincere as possible.

"Yeah that was pretty good," he lied.

"Maybe you could show me some tips?" I asked innocently enough, still keeping the façade of rookie-pool player.

"Sure"

He walked over and put his arms around me, positioning my hands on the pool stick. I stuck my bum out further, letting it rub against him.

"Like this?" I breathed.

"Yup you got it," he gulped. He left one hand on the small of my back as he guided the queue forward. "Make sure you…um…hit the center of the ball—more power and…uh…control."

"Ok." I slowly tapped the white ball, watching it punch the blue down the pocket. "Am I doing my hands right?"

He grasped my fingers in his, placing them gently in proper positions to strengthen my shot. They lingered as I gently punched another ball into place.

Then I decided to show him what I could do. Without warning, I lined up the queue quickly, dashing the stick into the ball. A sickening crack sounded and the ball spun across the table, bouncing a stripe ball against a red ball, which bounced the solid green and orange balls into two different pockets. The red ball kept roving, rolling lazily toward the side pocket, quivering on the edge until it finally dropped in.

I turned up and smiled at him. The only ball left for me to ace was the magic 8 ball. His features were contorted in shock, stunned by my sudden show of skill. He still had four balls to go, to my one. He was going to lose. I neatly put the magic 8 ball away before gloating.

"You cheated!" He cried, still baffled by his defeat.

"No! You just helped me in the beginning, but I got the hang of it," I wheedled, sidling up to him again.

"Something tells me you didn't really need my help," he said, grabbing my waist and pulling me close.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." He encircled me in his arms, holding me tight. I just breathed in his soapy scent. He smelled so clean. It was a nice relief from this dingy pub.

"Hey cutie! How 'bout playing me?" A coarse voice interrupted the naughty thoughts filling my head. Rob's arms tightened around me as I lifted my head to look up.

A big fat man stood at the pool table. His dirty white t-shirt stretched uncomfortably across his jiggling beer belly, his baldhead shining with sweat. He stood expectantly, an impatient look on his face. "How 'bout it sweetheart?"

As repugnant as the man was, I decided I would play him. Just to prove my pool skills.

" M'kay. You wanna go first?"

"Nah, ladies first. Gotta give you a chance!" He boomed, leering his unshaven jaw at me.

"Alright, your choice. So what are we playing for?"

He snarled, raking his watery blue eyes up and down me. "Just a kiss sugar."

I actually took a step back. I was so disgusted. The stench of beer and sweat was so strong I almost barfed on the spot. Despite the stakes, I knew I could beat him. I knew I could show him.

"Fine." Rob spun me around, hands on my shoulders.

"Are you insane!? That guy is repulsive!" He whispered urgently.

"Don't worry, I can beat him."

I stepped forward, re-chalking my queue. The man had already set up the balls, the triangle waiting for me to break its precise formation. I leveled the pool stick, weaving it between my fingers, and snapped the white ball. Colors whizzed and swirled as the billiard balls spread across the green felt. Surveying the table, I tried to find the best combo. I found one, a perfect triple—with a very possible fourth. It was stripes. Taking a deep breath, I bent over, lining the queue with the white ball. I focused my eyes and gripped the stick firmly. One…Two…Three…SLAM! The three balls went skidding into the far pocket in quick succession. Only the fourth ball, a royal blue stripe was left careening wildly toward the side. It struck the felt, missing the pocket by a hair.

Then I missed the next shot.

The sweaty man took over, grinning in what was supposed to be a seductive way. Um NO. He nailed his next two shots, the solid balls thumping into their respective pockets with ease. He missed his third, relinquishing control of the table to me.

We went back and forth. Every shot he made seemed to be defensive, crowding the table to hinder my shots. Finally it was down to the last round. The deciding round. My orange-striped ball sat precariously near his yellow solid. With one jab he could send his ball to its pocket—making me LOSE! NOT OK. It was over, though. The game had climaxed rounds ago. I had no chance in hell.

With one sharp snap, the yellow sphere bounced out of sight and he had won. The pub erupted in guffaws and jeers. They had all been watching. I watched nervously as the disgusting man smoothed his hair down, wiping the sheen from his forehead. He extended one pudgy finger and crooked it—gesturing me to come forward. I hovered at the edge of the table, repelled by his stench. Genie stared apologetically at me, Stan laughed quietly. Rob looked furious. His eyes were narrowed, his hands in fists at his side.

Jay, the fat man, placed one foot unsteadily in front of the other. He crookedly advanced towards me. Thank god it was such a long pool table. Suddenly Rob was between us. His back was to me, his front menacing Jay.

"Don't touch her," Rob ordered, authority ringing with each syllable. I looked at Genie, her face riveted by the scene.

"Hey, I'm just collecting my side of the bet. Fair game n' all, I won," Jay slurred.

"I mean it, or I'm going to seriously fuck you up," Rob sounded incredibly badass. He drew himself up taller, hulking over the tubby bald boy.

"You gonna fuck me, pretty boy?" Jay taunted, mocking Rob's British accent.

CRACK.

This time, the crack didn't come from the pool table. It came from Jay's face. Bashed in and bleeding, Jay grasped his head.

"WHAT THE FUCK MAN!?" He screamed, trying to reconfigure his nose. His eyes streamed with tears, mingling with the gushing blood and grimy sweat from before. UGH. He launched himself at Rob, swinging a paw at Rob's perfect face. I gasped.

Rob ducked and pounded the man again, this time connecting with his jaw. He stopped and stepped back to survey the damage. Satisfied, he stood and crossed his arms.

"Wanna leave?"

Jay was wounded—both his body and his pride. He swelled up his chest and sucker punched Rob. Rob didn't even sway. Suddenly a roar emitted from our table. Genie screamed and Stan rushed the fat white man. He kicked the man to the floor and as soon as Jay hit the sticky wood, the pub erupted in battle. Two men went after Rob and Stan as random brawls broke out throughout the room. Glass crashing, wood cracking, beasts grunting, Genie and I clung to each other. We stared wide-eyed in fear at the melee. The bartender just stood watching the fights destroy his pub. He kept wiping the bar indifferently as head after head bashed against it. Stan was pounding one man to a pulp, Rob dodging the punches of another. I pressed myself against the pool table as a pair of fighters rushed down the hallway, hitting the wall with a sickening crunch. Genie and I climbed onto the felt-top table, screaming at Rob and Stan to stop. The violence was vicious, tooth and nail.

Suddenly a firm hand wrapped around my arm, grabbing me and pulling me off the pool table. I glared frantically around, searching for Rob. This wasn't his hand. This arm was tan and bulky as it roughly pulled me out of the mayhem into the warm L.A. air. Genie had been tugged out of the room by the same arm. She was shrieking back at the door, yelling at Stan—wherever he was, to stop it!

A low chuckle sounded behind me. I turned around and gasped, Rob and Stan stood behind us. They were bruised and banged up, scratches tearing up their faces, hair mussed damply with sweat. Stan released Genie and I.

The boys were grinning, devilish smiles plastered on their faces. I stared at Rob in terror.

"ARE YOU OK!?" Genie and I screeched at the same time.

"Yeah we're fine," Rob replied pleasantly. His shirt was half un-buttoned, hanging at an odd angle. Stan's tight little jersey had a gash in the side, dirt and blood smeared on its pristine white surface.

I stared at them.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?" I yelled at him, surprised by how shaken I was by the impromptu fight club.

"I defended your honor," he stated simply. I glared at him, secretly touched.

Genie was carrying a similar conversation with Stan.

"We're mates. It's what you do!"

"Um, what if you had gotten hurt? Like, actually hurt?" I implored Rob.

"I dunno…gotten over it?" He answered nonplussed.

Suddenly I hugged him. He looked incredibly sexy, all torn up and bleeding. He kissed the top of my head, pulling me up so he was holding me, my legs wrapped around his waist. I slung my arms around his neck as we made out. His kisses were fierce and passionate, intense and hard. I liked it. One hand held me up, the other roamed my back, while I tightened my legs around him. I felt him sitting down on a bench. From inside the pub I could still hear the grunts and yells from the fight inside.

I straddled him, running my hands up his back as his slipped under my shirt and traveled up. And up. Our lips crashed with fury, our tongues fighting for dominance. My eyes darted around, Stan and Genie had disappeared. The street was dark and deserted, the only light coming from the dim windows of the pub. We were alone.

"That was really hot by the way. How you just took that sleaze out," I murmured into his chest. He grunted, running his hands through my hair.

My hands snaked down his front toward his belt. I let my fingers trail over his rippling abs, making them contract even more. My hands were around the cold metal, quickly undoing the buckle, ripping the leather through.

"It was really hot when you were playing pool…" he started, trailing off as my hands found the zipper to his jeans. "Right here?" he asked.

I nodded salaciously, kissing him again. His hands slowly unsnapped the tops of my shorts. He kissed me again, hungrily. And then a bright light blinded me. Another flashed rudely, clouding my sight with sparkling circles and squares. Suddenly a chorus of questions rang out around us. The white lights continued to flash and burn as I felt Rob throw me on the bench next to him. I sat stoically, taking in the onslaught of paparazzi surrounding us. Cameras clicked and tape recorders thrust in my face. Rob whisked me away, pulling me through the sea of reporters down the block.

"RUN!" He yelled at me, pushing me ahead of him. And I ran. I ran pell-mell down the street, the way illuminated by the camera flashes. I rounded the corner, not knowing where I was going, probably looking like a raving lunatic. In the distance, I could see the soft lights of the Four Seasons.

"ROB THIS WAY!" I screamed back at him, as the mass of paparazzi threatened to engulf him. We dashed into the lobby, forcing our way into the elevator, wedging ourselves behind a cart full of luggage—hidden from view. The bellhop looked at us curiously as the doors slid shut. I exhaled, sinking down onto the carpeted floor.

"Jesus CHRIST! That was insane!" I wailed at him, the elevator telling us we were at floor 8 as the bellhop wheeled the luggage away.

"Yeah, they're nuts," he agreed, pulling me back up and leading me towards our room as we reached floor 11. It was silent. They hadn't found us yet. I fell onto the bed, pulling my shorts off. They were pretty grimy. As I did this, I realized that I had been almost naked just a short time ago. In an alley. Straddling Rob Pattinson. On a bench. In the dark. Outside a pub. In an alley. Straddling Rob Pattinson. Who was the talk of Tinsel town. Whose every move was being hounded by eager tabloids. Who I had been straddling in a dark alley on a bench outside of a pub. Whose paparazzi hunters had found us. And taken pictures. Of us. In the dark alley. On the bench. Outside the pub. With me. Straddling him.

_SHIT!!_


	14. The Ripples

**SERIOUSLY...REVIEWS! but its ok if you dont, i kinda hate it when people beg for reviews. **

My phone rang. It rang once. It rang twice. It rang three times. I sat on the bed and stared at it. I watched the red light blink, a tiny envelope appearing in the corner of the small window. The phone rang again and again; 5 missed calls, 4 new messages. I looked at it, lying innocently on the soft gold sheets. Beside it lay a newspaper—a thin rag, only about 10 pages thick. It was opened to the third page, the cheap ink slightly smeared across the headline of the article. A big square picture, in full color was placed beneath it. The British tabloid mentioned a variety of topics; reporting on a fashion show in London, a stock market scandal, the upcoming contest for the biggest zucchini in the U.K. Of course, the article with the biggest picture, the article with the brightest headline, the article filed under Hollywood Brits on page three, was the one of most interest. The picture consisted of a hunky young man and short brunette wrapped around each other, with hands in all sorts of inappropriate places, hair mussed beyond belief, clothing tangled and misplaced. There were two pictures, placed side by side. They were of the same lascivious scene, but from two angles. The one on the left showed the young man's face, achingly handsome and chiseled. The image on the right displayed the girl in full clarity. She looked like every sort of girl, just a tad smuttier. Her loose, skimpy tank top was hanging off her shoulders, pushed up past her waist, showing off the clasps to her red bra. Her shorts were unsnapped, falling slightly past where they should be, revealing the top of a sparkly g-string. She was staring straight at the camera, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. I stared at the girl in horror, her eyes boring straight into mine. The same light brown eyes that I see in the mirror.

The headline screamed, Rob's Pub-side Tryst! in glaring red letters. The picture was captioned: _Just two days after a public break-up with on-again off-again girlfriend Camilla Belle, __Harry Potter's__ own Robert Pattinson was spotted getting intimate with an unknown girl outside of McShady's Pub._ The article continued to denounce me as a nobody skank, Rob's tool to make Camilla jealous, and a fame-seeking aspiring actress. They didn't have my name, or where I was from, or to whom I was related—thank god. However, the picture was enough. It was me, alright. And anybody who read the British tabloid couldn't deny I looked like a full on tramp.

Water was still running in the bathroom, Rob still in the shower—blissfully unaware of the media attention. My phone had already begun ringing incessantly while we were rolling around on the bed. I had ignored it as I poured coffee, put on a robe and reached for the paper. He seemed uninterested in his buzzing blackberry as he stepped into the bathroom. Someone was trying to get a hold of us, but we didn't really know why, nor did we care.

But when I had opened the door to grab the NY Times, my eyes still drooping from lack of sleep, I was greeted by a cacophonous mob of reporters—a stinky periodical thrown in my face. I had shut the door instantly, hightailing it back to the bed and under the covers from the jostling reporters outside our room. But it wasn't until my phone rang again, that I looked at the tabloid clutched in my hands. I flipped through it absentmindedly, curious to see what facts were currently being manufactured. My eyes swept past the headline on the third page, not registering the meaning of the words until I had scanned the sports section. I gazed at the picture of Rob and I, lost for words. His humming echoed off the tiled walls of the shower while not a single sound emitted from my parted lips. The door to the bathroom creaked open slowly, brushing against the plush carpeting. A whoosh of steam escaped as Rob strode back into the bedroom. His hair was wet and tousled, his cheeks flushed, a brilliant smile on his face. He clutched the towel loosely around his hips, droplets of water rolling down the planes of his muscled stomach out of sight. I stared at him wordlessly, not quite sure what emotion controlling my face.

"What's wrong?"

I lifted the paper, keeping it open to page three, raising it in front of my face to shield myself from his reaction. A distant chime announced the fifth text message of the day—it was only 7 in the morning.

He groaned, and I peeked from behind the article.

"Are you serious!?" he exclaimed to no one in particular, eyes flashing. "GOD! This is getting ridiculous!"

He snatched the paper from my hands and stared at the scandalous picture gracing its third page. One hand still determinedly keeping the towel in place, he tucked the tabloid under his arm and reached for his phone. He hurriedly dialed a number, lifting the phone to his ear as it began ringing.

"Audrey, I'm so sorry," he apologized. His eyes grasped mine with sincere regret.

"It's alright…" I mumbled, looking away, going to read my texts.

"No, it really isn't, this is my fault. I should've known something like this would happen—" his voice became bitter. "Hi, Deanna—it's Rob…yeah I've seen it…no I didn't read it, just the headline and caption…ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING?!" he cried into the phone, jumping up from the chair he was occupying. His hand had lifted in frustration, dropping the towel. He glanced at me, embarrassed, his cheeks reddening further before he fumbled to pick it up, wrapping it tighter around him. I suppressed a smile.

He was talking to his publicist in frantic tones. I tuned out the conversation, not really intent on hearing any more about the situation. Instead I flipped open my phone. Two of the missed calls were from Genie, two from my friend Julie, and one—the most recent—from my mother. I grimaced, hoping I was hallucinating before proceeding to the texts.

The first was from Genie: OMFGGGGGG!! CALL ME BACK!!

The second was from Genie: CALL ME NOW!!

The third was from Julie: BABE! I think you're in the paper…I'm in London right now with the fam-bam and I was reading this tabloid and…I don't know, just call me!

The fourth was from Genie: WAKE UP!! THERE'S SERIOUS SHIT GOING DOWN! CALL ME!!

The fifth was from Genie: WHY HAVEN'T YOU CALLED ME!?

Genie was definitely beginning to make use of her newly reinstated unlimited texting.

As I read the messages my phone began to ring again. I was really starting to hate my snazzy little ringtone. I stared in trepidation at the caller id: _Home_. As the tinny electronic song neared its end, I knew the call would go to voicemail. FUCK!

"Hello?" I squeaked. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the conversation to come.

"AUDREY!? This is your mother,"

"I-I know mom," I stammered into the phone. Maybe she was just calling to say hey. "What's up? Everything ok?"

"No. NO. NO! Everything is not ok. Where are you right now? No lies, please." I could feel the artic chill from her voice through the device.

"Um, well, Genie and I are at the Four Season's Hotel," I stated.

"Are you? So where's her family? I thought you were staying with her cousins?"

"Umm, well…we were. But, more family came, so her parents put us up at the Four Seasons here in L.A." I fabricated, crossing my fingers she hadn't spoken to the Gonzalez's. I mean, the chances were good that they hadn't, they had never spoken in their lives. I guess the language barrier was just a little too much for my mom. It had worked out well for me though—she had no way to find out if I was lying from the Gonzalez's.

"Uh huh," she sounded unconvinced. "So, if you've been spending so much time with her family, how come there's a picture of you in the paper?"

I decided to play dumb.

"What paper?'

"Audrey, there's a picture of you straddling some guy in the paper. I'm staring at it right now."

"Really? Wait, WHAT paper? I haven't hooked up with anyone this whole time. I've been owning in the potato sack races, though." I really could be an actress.

"This paper, it's uhh…um...the British Sun. It's some celebrity rag, but YOU'RE in it!" My mother shrieked into the phone.

I saw another way to get myself out of this.

"OH MY GOD! IT MADE THE PAPER?!" I yelled into the phone with faux excitement. "THE PICTURE OF ME KISSING ROBERT PATTINSON?!"

"Yes, that's who this says this is…care to explain?"

"Oh! YEAH! Geeeezz, WOW I had NO idea that would make anyyy sort of news. It was for truth or dare. Genie, her cousins…uhh…Maria and umm…Renaldo…and I were walking back to our hotel from the bus, and we saw Robert Pattinson! So like, you know how I have this like, HUGE crush on him? So they all DARED me to go up and kiss him…" I wove my web of lies. "He was sitting all by himself outside this sketchy pub, so I like, run over to him and kissed him! And I guess there were tons of paparazzi around because all of a sudden people were taking pictures, and I just like, RAN OUT OF THERE. We, like, sprinted to the hotel."

"I see…" My mother was buying the story, but I could tell something was still bothering her. "This picture is really disturbing, Audrey. You look like a loose woman."

I snorted into the phone…loose woman?

"Loose woman, mom?"

"I mean it! You're half naked and you're all over him. It's disgusting. I thought I taught you to be more of a lady," she reprimanded me. Then suddenly she exclaimed, "ARE YOU HAVING SEX?!"

"What?! NO! Mom! NO! What makes you say that?"

"It's just you don't seem very bothered by such a slutty picture of you being all over the world, and you look like you're enjoying this little…session…with that lecher."

Her dig at both Rob and I almost set me off. But I knew better than that, I had to keep cool.

"GOD MOM! Well yeah, I was enjoying myself. He played Cedric in Harry Potter! But I'm not having sex or anything. That picture was like, for five seconds of my life."

"We're going to have a talk about this when you come home this weekend. This is immature behavior. I've never been so ashamed in my life. Do you know who brought me this paper?" Her voice was quivering; she was upset that I'd made her look like such a negligent parent.

"Who?" I droned.

"Edna," she spat out. Edna was our next-door neighbor; a crotchety old woman who barely left her house. When we had tried to remodel our kitchen, she had put up a huge fuss about the noise, hiring lawyers and investigators. She had slowed the project down by half a year, costing my parents thousands of dollars. My mom hated Edna.

"Oh, um…well you know…only Edna would read the British Sun, anyways. No one reads it except for in England. I think you're reputation is intact, Mom," I reassured her, desperate to get off the phone. "Ok, I really need to take a shower…"

"Alright, but this isn't over Audrey. And don't forget to call and check in!"

"Yes, mom. BYE!"

I snapped the phone shut with a sigh of relief. The worst was over. Sorta. I looked back over at Rob. He had somehow changed into pants while staying on the phone with the publicist.

"Well, I don't know where the relationship stands right now, Deanna. I know what I would like to say, but I'm not sure she's on the same page. I'll have to get back to you." Rob's back was to me; he was fiddling with the strings on the drapes as he continued his heated conversation. "Just release a statement saying I'd like some privacy!"

He jabbed the "end" button on his phone angrily and leaned against the window. I watched him apprehensively, unsure of what to do. It was like he said; we don't know where our relationship stands.

I walked over to him, resting my hand on his bare back. I curled myself around him, craning my neck so he would look me in the eyes.

"You know, it's not that big of a deal. This stuff happens all the time, and no one cares," I started slowly. He put one arm around my waist, pulling me to him.

"I know. It still isn't right. They shouldn't be able to just interfere like this," he mumbled, frustrated.

"Yeah well…what can you do?" I appeased, my arms clinging to his neck. "It's WHATEVA!!" I stood on my tiptoes, bringing my lips to meet his. He kissed me back, softly and tenderly, intertwining my fingers with his as he tugged me to the bed.

He plopped me down on the thick comforter, disentangling himself. There was suddenly a gaping canyon between us. Less than two feet separated Rob from me, but it might well have been miles. He sat stoically, legs straight out, arms hanging at his sides. I tucked my legs beneath me, sitting Indian style—facing the side of his body. I didn't read too many of those_ Cosmopolitan_ articles about body language, but Genie had explained enough to me that I knew this wasn't good. This was not good.

"Well…it sort of…brought a lot of things to my attention," he began, measuring each word. A bolt of panic pierced though me. This was leading nowhere good. This was headed in a very bad bad bad direction.

"Like what?" I asked in a surprisingly unperturbed voice, sadistically bring my emotional demise closer.

Rob started fidgeting, staring straight ahead.

"Like…what THIS is. Like, what we're doing together."

I drew a shaky breath, preparing for his words. I knew they were coming. I knew this had to end sometime. It was SO ridiculously absurd, so unrealistic. I didn't speak; I couldn't trust my voice to be strong anymore. I just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Audrey, I know this will be hard for you. It's really unfair actually," he looked away determinedly. "I've made so many mistakes with this sort of thing before. I've let stuff go unsaid. Important stuff. And it doesn't make for anything…good."

I pressed my lips together, fearful that the sob in my throat would escape. I widened my eyes, trying to air them out, to dispel the tears. His words made sense. What he was saying made sense. Perfect sense. Way too much sense. We'd just both get hurt if we let things continue as they were. Better to end it OFFICIALLY.

He had stopped, as though waiting for some response. I just nodded in agreement. Willing him to just hurry up and be done with it. I guess he saw my movement out of the corner of his eye because he took a deep breath. He closed his eyes tightly, as though bracing himself for intolerable pain.

"Audrey…" he started his statement, eyes focused entirely on the rug before him. "Will you be my girlfriend?" His words spilled out in a rush, tripping and stumbling over one another.

My mind went blank. My eyes locked on a piece of dust, swirling in the light. Silence filled the room.

His eyes darted up to mine, beseeching me for an answer.

This had to be some sort of sick joke, some cruel twisted game.

"What?" I cleverly replied, gazing at his perfect features in confusion.

"Um…well…it's really rude of me to even ask…to even go there…" he floundered, looking away anxiously. "You probably don't like going out with ANYONE…least of all, me…plus we don't even live in the same-the same town…" he stammered.

"No, no, no. Wait. Stop. Talking. Um…"I babbled incoherently. "Can you-can-can you repeat what you just asked me? I-I…I think my ears went, like…I don't know just uh…say that again?" Wow. I'm SUPER intelligent.

"Er…well…I asked you if you would be my, um, girlfriend. Which was totally out of order, I mean it's not what you want at—"

"For real?" I interrupted his rambling. Hope started to spring.

"Um…yeah!" he responded, perplexed.

"No. Seriously!"

"Yes."

"WELL, YEAH!!" I cried at him, a giant smile breaking across my face.

"Really?" his eyes lit up, he turned his body back towards me.

"Uh huh," I nodded enthusiastically.

He took both my hands and kissed me. I pulled away—basically in shock at the sudden turn of events. He was beaming, his smile radiating from ever corner of his face.

"You sure?" he asked worriedly, his mile vanishing.

I looked at him like he was crazy, "Definitely."

Launching myself at him, I buried my face in his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around me tightly. I managed to free on of my hands, closing my thumb and forefinger down on my wrist. I pinched as very hard as I could. Really hard. I squeezed my eyes shut; waiting for the dream to evaporate, to dissolve into thin air. It didn't.


	15. The Exchange

_!!_

_I'M ROB PATTINSON'S GIRLFRIEND!_

_!!_

_!!_

I giggled uncontrollably and kissed him again. This time, it lasted. We sank down onto the bed, him hovering over me as I lay beneath him. He propped his weight up with his elbows, still lying on top of me. I smiled and placed my hand on his cheek.

"What's so special about me? I'm not that girlfriend-y."

It was true. I hadn't ever had a boyfriend, unless two weeks sophomore year counted. Which didn't. I'd hooked up with guys—never getting so involved as to have sex, though. I wasn't flirtatious enough—I was just as normal as ever around boys. That's what made me a hook-up buddy, not a girlfriend.

"Yes you are. You're the most real girl I've talked to in a long time. That's girlfriend material, right there. And as for WHY…do you want me to name the long the list of things I love about you?" his breath blew into mine.

"I don't know if my composure can handle that…better not," I answered; playing with a loose curl of is hair.

"Maybe I'll write you a song," he mused.

My eyes sparkled, my heart jumped. I sat up, nearly pushing him off the bed. I'd forgotten he was a musician.

"That's a really really good idea," I told him excitedly, leaning back into his arms.

My phone rang…again. It WOULD spoil the perfect moment. Rob tossed the small black cell to me—it was Genie.

"Maybe I'd better answer…"

"You should. Um, do you want to be public about this? Or stay private? I'll tell Deanna…it's up to you," he extricated himself to retrieve his blackberry. I already missed him.

"PUBLIC!"

He chuckled and dialed.

"Hey Genie!" I sang.

"AUD!! Have you seen The Sun?! HAVE YOU!?"

"Yeah, I've seen it."

"OH MY GOD! Stan, like, flipped out. He's worried Rob's gonna get all depressed because you're going to wanna go back home. Do you wanna go back home?!"

"Whoa…no no no no. Not at alllll. I already talked to my mom and smoothed out the picture and stuff. By the way, we're staying at the Four Seasons with your cousins…uhh...Maria and Renaldo…if she calls you b t dubs."

"Nice names. Racial profiling much?" I could hear her bitter smirk in her voice. "WAIT! So what'd Rob say!?"

"Umm…well…" I drew it out, heightening her anticipation. "He…sortaaa…asked me to be his girlfriend." I tried to keep my voice flat and devoid of emotion, but it was bursting with hysterical excitement.

Genie's shrieks went on for days, forcing me to hold the phone away from my ear, protecting my hearing.

"You said yes, RIGHT!? RIGHT!?"

"Yeah! Of course!"

"OH MY GOD AUDREY! THIS IS HUGE!" I could practically see her dancing up and down.

"Yeah! I know! It's like WHAAT?"

"Wow…!! BAHA! This is great. So are you guys like, going public or staying on the d.l…?"

"Umm, I think we're going public?" I answered eyeing Rob as he explained who I was to his publicist.

"OH MY GOD. AUDREY! You're going to be famous!"

My eyes bugged at the thought. Whoa. She was right. Whoa. WHOA!

"Aright well I guess I'll let you two lovebirds…do YO THANG!" She hung up before I could reply to her ridiculous comment.

Rob was sitting in the chair describing me to Deanna.

"Well, her name is Audrey Reynolds. She's from San Francisco. She's 18. She'll be a freshman at Cornell's Industrial and Labor Relations College next fall…yes, she just graduated high school," I could hear exclamations issuing from his phone.

"NO! That picture has got to go. She's not trashy at all…well yes, she's as pretty as the picture, but it doesn't do her justice, at all." Rob ran his fingers through his hair as he spoke sincerely into the phone.

It felt as if my person was filling up with a soft and glowing effervescent light. It didn't bother me his publicist thought I was a slut—I totally looked like one in that picture. She thought I was pretty, though. And Rob thought I was prettier than that picture. I grabbed the tabloid, scanning the article again. I did look kinda hot in the photo. Well to be honest, a COMPLETE whore, actually. But I looked good. My hair had achieved the sexy bed hair look I'd been striving for my whole life. My lips were pink and pouting, my eyes wide like saucers. My makeup was smudged a bit, enhancing my features further. Ok, so at least I didn't look ugly. Just the ultimate ho. I can live with that.

"She's absolutely breathtaking. No, she's tiny, like 5'3"ish?...hold on, I'll ask—" he cupped his hand over the phone, looking back at me. "Aud, do you wanna meet Deanna?"

_Meet his publicist? WOW. OK!_

"Meet your publicist? WOW. OK!"

"Yeah she's fine with it. How 'bout lunchtime then?...Oh you'll love her! She's hilarious, and dangerously charming. She's got these huge eyes—they're like caramels, and they just draw you in. She has the softest hair in the world I think…" He continued to gush about me into the phone.

God, was this an ego boost or what? I frantically busied myself with my text messages, pretending I hadn't been listening. It was kinda embarrassing. Instead of listening to his falsehoods, I focused on responding to Julie.

Julie was another close friend. My parents hated her because we always got into trouble when we're together. So we had this secret friendship. She was in London for the summer, staying with her sister in her Oxford dorm. I couldn't even dream of all the mischief se was probably getting into.

My fingers furiously punched and jabbed the buttons on my cell phone, hurriedly typing out a message:

JULES! So basically that tabloid, The Sun? Yeah that's me. I have SOO much to tell you! P.S. I'm Robert Pattinson's new girlfriend! 0o!

I sent and saved it, hoping Rob was off the phone and I didn't have to listen to him build me up to Deanna. As my eyes lifted from the fluorescent screen, I found myself staring into Rob's lake-green eyes. He was inches away from me, our noses softly touching. After all the time we'd spent together, all the random stuff that'd happened to us, he still took my breath away. I still found myself utterly incapable of being a normal human being with him around. The only way I could respond to him was with a joke. I truly couldn't hold a serious conversation with him so close-by. My heart racing, my cheeks flushing crimson, my stomach making nervous little jumps. My lips curved into an involuntary smile, an idiotic grin plastered to my face, which, try as I might, I couldn't force away.

"Creeper," I chided him, the only thing I could manage saying.

He shrugged and lifted me onto his lap. He was still missing a shirt; I thought absentmindedly as he showered my neck and shoulders with kisses. My head threw back in pleasure, a smile sigh of contentment issuing from my parted lips.

"Um…so when are we meeting uhh…Deanna?"

"Noon. For lunch," he mumbled into my hair. "You'll like her, she's kind of a hard-ass but she's great."

"Sure, yeah ok." I small knot of worry formed. What if she didn't like _me_? She'd try and convince Rob to break up with me, that's for sure. "Does she have any other clients or like…"

"She works with a lot of British actors, she helps manage Hugh Grant here in the U.S. Oh, and that guy, from House? Hugh Laurie? Yeah, she's big on keeping the tabloid press to a minimum."

OH GOD. Hugh Grant!? This woman is no small potatoes. What was I going to wear!? I ripped myself from Rob's hold, tumbling over the side of the bed onto the carpet. I crawled rapidly towards the bag of clothes Genie had brought me.

"Audrey? Where are you going?" Rob sat on the edge of the bed, confused by my sudden departure.

"I have to figure out what I'm going to wear!" I wailed, digging through the bag Genie had packed. All of my jeans were in it, two pairs of shorts, a couple loose tank tops, my favorite teal sweater, a short grey cardigan and all of my flip-flops. It all looked like stuff any girl in America could have purchased in one day at the mall. I spied a small leather woven belt at the bottom of the bag and snatched it up. This was definitely being worn.

"What's the fuss about? You don't have to impress anyone."

I fixed him with a deadpan stare. HAH. No, I only had to impress his publicist.

"Can you just help me pick something that looks presentable?" I implored him, sinking down on my heels in frustration. Clothes surrounded me. The little pile spread around me, the shopping bag empty and torn, tossed aside. "What sort of things do girls wear to meet publicists?"

"Umm…I dunno. Normal clothes," he replied, clearly uninterested. He was so helpful.

"Ok…thanks!" I exclaimed sarcastically, pawing through the mess. I held up the nautical shorts Genie had worn our first day. They were high-waisted and had little brass buckles. Ok, not average mall wear. I yanked them on, tucking in the loose white tank top, feeding the woven belt through the loops. I threw on two gold necklaces and decorated my fingers with rings. "Is this alright?"

"Yeah! That looks great!" he answered enthusiastically. I really couldn't tell if he was lying or not. But this was really the best I could do.

I turned to the mirror, taking in the outfit. It worked. I definitely looked L.A. in the summer. My legs looked long in these shorts, my waist narrow from the cinched in belt. Not half bad.

My hair was another story. It had a weird sort of kink in it, like I'd slept on it strangely. Which I had. It wasn't the cleanest it could be, either. Thank goodness I always kept a clip in my purse for emergencies. I clipped back the awkward strand and shook my head, allowing air to voluminize my limp hair. Piece by piece I was coming together.

My makeup was smudged and almost gone. I redid it quickly, applying some Burt's Bees Lip Balm to smooth out my lips. Ok, I was presentable.

"Yeah?" I turned back to Rob. He had a white wife-beater on. Man! He's dressed. Damn.

"I'd say so. Let's get breakfast. I'm starved," he reached for my hand and grabbed a pair of wayfarers from the dresser. As we neared the door, I could hear the clamoring from the reporters outside. Rob turned the knob and swung it open, gripping my hand tightly. The journalists and photographers descended upon us, snapping photos and screeching questions into my ear.

"What's your name?"

"Where are you from?"

"Are you under 18?"

"Are you American?"

"Who do you support, Obama or McCain?"

"Are you and Spunk Ransom engaged?"

"Do you go to school?"

"Any addictions?"

The questions were getting more and more ridiculous. I jammed my bug-eyed glasses onto my face, trying to hide the panic in my eyes. Rob's hand clutched mine, leading me through the pack towards the elevator. We squeezed in, the reporters not allowed to follow us.

"Sorry, I forgot to warn you," Rob pushed his sunglasses off, staring at me apologetically.

"Oh it's fine," I off-handedly, as if I had done this before. "Are they allowed to be here, though? They're not supposed to like, be in the hotel…right?"

"Well, they managed it somehow. They're not stupid enough to show up in the restaurant, though. They'll definitely get kicked out there."

He lifted my sunglasses off the bridge of my nose and kissed me. My lips molded to his, lingering softly as the elevator rung our arrival. He pulled away regrettably, walking me towards the Four Seasons' dining room.

Morning light played off the crystal glasses, making the glass encased room dance and shimmer. The sun beamed through cut-glass windows, casting rainbow prisms on the polished hardwood floor. A bespectacled man dressed in a crisp tuxedo guided us to a table in the corner. The dining room was empty except for an elderly couple. The aged woman's lilac dress fluttered in an invisible breeze, emitting a light floral scent. The dapper couple didn't glance upwards as we passed them, continuing their meal in a comfortable silence. They sipped their mimosas, read their Wall Street Journal, and nibbled on toast; all in supreme elegance and class.

The bald host sat us at a small round table, nestled against the wall behind other small round tables. The gleaming cutlery was aligned in perfect symmetry, flanking a trio of stacked floral china. The tiny round vase in the center of the table displayed a single white rose, thorns painstakingly removed.

The well-groomed, incredibly gay Pierre placed my menu in my hands before holding Rob's chair with a flourish. He handed Rob his menu with the utmost care, fidgeting with the table cloth before bustling away, but not without an adoring bat of his eyelashes. I eyed Rob surreptitiously, holding back an amused giggle.

"Don't even go there," Rob warned me, not meeting my eyes as he read the menu. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, he clenched his lips shut focusing on the words before him as though they were of life-threatening importance.

"Uh huh," I grunted, pulling my chair in closer. I glanced at the menu unseeingly, fighting my urge to laugh out loud. Of course not only adoring girl fans, but also fabulously flamboyant gay men would hound Rob, as well. He was a wanted man. "So do you want sausages with juevos?"

He fixed me with a chilling glare over his menu.

"Or are you more of a fruity guy?"

I couldn't help it.

"I think I'm just going to be getting coffee, thanks," he glowered at me.

I chuckled and waved Pierre back over.

"Hey, yeah we're ready to order…" I started. Pierre turned his back to me, resting his eyes on Rob. Rob did not look up from his menu.

"What do you want?" Pierre asked saucily, his ears burning red.

"I'll have the uh…actually, I just want toast and coffee."

Pierre pursed his lips, "You sure, now? You're a big boy, I think you'll get hungry."

At this, Rob looked up. He stared at Pierre in disbelief, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"If you want, I can get you a side of sausages. They're jumbo-sized, here."

This man did not know when to stop. I stuffed my napkin into my mouth, trying to suffocate the laughter. Rob just shook his head politely, his eyes wide in fear.

"I believe, Audrey, here, would like to order," Rob gestured to me. Pierre turned his body slightly, but his eyes never left Rob. Rob was suddenly interested in the tablecloth.

"HI! I'd like the fruit and yogurt," I chirped at Pierre. He nodded curtly, still staring at Rob.

"Well, please do not hesitate to ask if you need anything. Anything at all." He cast a longing look at Rob before backing away.

Rob just shook his head, I laughed hysterically.

"Wow," he mouthed, gazing at me with fearful eyes.

I smirked at him. "Oh Rob, you don't know the power you have over…men."

He scratched his head and looked around, unsettled by Pierre's, um, forwardness. I lifted my foot out of my flip-flop, and raised it, leaving it on his knee. He started.

"All these…advances today. Goodness, enough to drive a man mad!" He exclaimed ruefully, scraping his chair closer to the table. Our knees were now touching.

I lifted my eyebrows seductively, placing my hand on the table. He took it immediately, not breaking my gaze as Pierre fussed over the coffee. We ignored the waiter until he finally huffed away.

Breakfast continued leisurely. Rob ended up ordering a plate of pancakes and bacon, after he finished the four small triangles of toast in a matter of seconds. I kept downing coffee. Once I'd emptied my fifth cup, Rob took it away from me. My hands were slightly jittery; I jumped at each clink of crystal. The dining room began to fill up; couples and families threw us questioning glances every so often. A low hum of chatter replaced the calm quiet of the banquet room, making for more comfortable conversation.

It was 11 o'clock by the time we left, moving swiftly through the labyrinth of tables and chairs. Rob wound one arm around my waist, holding me close to his side as we exited the hotel. The hot L.A. air hung dry and heavy as we strolled down the sidewalk. It was a short walk to Deanna's office, Rob had informed me.

As we pressed on, I realized how close to the water we were. I'd lived in the western most part of San Francisco my whole life; the wide expanse of the sea was no stranger to me. But I was used to Northern California beaches. I'd forgotten that the ocean could look like more than a grey pit, prettier than the cold bleak horizon I was accustomed to. Through gaps in the low shops and crowded streets, I could see the glistening water. The familiar salt air stung my face, however, I was soothed by the warm sun. The Pacific Ocean shone a brilliant azure, the sand a blindingly bright tan. The surf lapped against the shore in gentle breaks, startlingly different from the rough pounding that lulled me to sleep each night back home. No craggy rocks dotted the water, only surfers. No waterlogged wood and seaweed cluttered the shore, just colorful beach towels.

AH, SO-CAL.

Each intersection of speeding Beamers brought us closer and closer to the beach. The buildings grew smaller and smaller, turning into cute little bungalows. We stopped outside a brown building. It had flagged stone steps leading up to a small porch. The slated wooden door was ajar, opening into a comfortably furnished living room and kitchenette. A heavy oak door in the back wall was shut, its label reading "Deanna Eng- Publicist." I sat down on the Hawaiian print futon, glancing at the array of magazines on the bamboo coffee table. Pictures of various stars cluttered the walls, professional headshots of all of her clients. I gazed in awe at her lineup: Hugh Grant and Hugh Laurie were among them, but she also had pictures of Sean Penn, Clint Eastwood, Robert Redford. Eva Longoria smiled next to Emily Blunt. Isla Fischer's picture paired with Drew Barrymore. With a stab of resentment I spied Kristin Stewart and Katie Leung. Both of Rob's love interests in his movies. The framed photos were endless; the black and white images of well-respected and talented actors placed neatly on shelves if not on the wall. This woman had some serious clients. I guess she was kind of a big deal. Rob was in the little kitchen, pouring two glasses of water. He handed me one before ringing a buzzer next to the oak door.

It opened instantly, swinging inwards. Rob jerked his head towards it, smiling at me as I walked past him into the room.

I stepped into a sparse office. A single desk with a laptop and folder stood in the middle. A thin printed rug adorned the light wooden floors. A wooden filing cabinet rested in the corner. The gaping window on my left provided an inspiring view of the ocean, but that was it. No decoration. No artwork. No papers. A brisk voice behind me spoke.

"So you are Audrey?"

I spun around, surprised to see a small Chinese woman sitting on a meditation cushion against the wall. This wall had a colossal widescreen television. Two cushions were positioned facing her. Rob and I each sat on one. The round seat was surprisingly fluffy and comfortable as I struggled to cross my legs politely.

"Yes, I'm Audrey. Audrey Reynolds," I replied, smiling as genuinely and friendly as I could.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Deanna Eng," the miniscule woman stuck out her hand. I shook it good-naturedly as I evaluated her appearance. She was sitting cross-legged on her cushion, back straight against the blank wall. Her shiny black hair was streaked with grey, cropped in a bob, bangs hanging thick and blunt across her forehead. Her skin was pale and creamy, perfectly even. Wide, round glasses framed her eyes, which darted sharply from my head to my toes. Her tiny mouth was set in a polite smile. She wore a simple black dress, the sleeves falling three-quarters length down her arms. She reminded me of Edna Mode. "You have a very nice handshake."

I smiled at her, thankful for the odd but nice compliment, not quite sure how to respond. "Thanks, uh…you do too."

"I'm Rob's publicist. As you can tell, I have many clients. It's essential that I know what's going in their lives for me to convey an accurate and respectable image of them to the public." She spoke clearly and quickly, a no-nonsense tone in her voice.

"I understand you and Rob…are official?" She glanced at him expectantly.

"Yes," he nodded casually.

"Alright that makes things easier." She turned her attention back to me, "Now, Audrey, tell me about yourself. You're just graduated high school?"

"Yeah, I'm going to Cornell for undergrad…I want to study political science and history and industry…" I trailed off, wondering what she wanted to know.

"But you are 18?"

"Yes."

"Democrat or Republican?"

What was with this obsession with my politics?

"Um…democrat."

"Obama or Hilary?"

"Um…well, since Hilary's out, Obama. But I actually worked on Hilary's campaign back in the city."

She looked impressed by my political activism. Score!

"I see. You're from San Francisco, correct?"

"Yes, born and raised in San Francisco."

"Your birthday?"

"Excuse me?"

"When's your birthday?"

"Um…May 26."

"I see, Gemini…interesting." She gazed away, lost in thought. I looked at Rob worriedly. He chuckled and grabbed my hand. This was strange. "Well…I like you, Audrey."

Her sudden announcement caught me off guard. I sat stupidly, not reacting to her words.

"I think you and Rob are good together. You're very pretty, and you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. Thank you for coming to see me." She stood up and quickly, motioning to the door to go.

WHAT WAS THIS?

"Oh…uh…no, thank you!" I smiled and extended my hand. She shook it, nodded curtly at Rob and shut the door behind us.

"What WAS that?" I whispered to Rob as we crossed the waiting room and headed back into the brilliant sunshine.

"That's Deanna. She's brilliant, a tad odd, but brilliant," he said nonchalantly.

"How can she like me? I said like, maybe three full sentences and like, ten words!"

"Oh don't worry, she has her own way of figuring out people. She's always spot on."

I rolled my eyes, confused by her manner. Everything was so weird. Her office was more of a beach home; her seating arrangements belonged at a séance, her appearance out of a movie. She had asked me my age, my party, my hometown and my birthday. Ok, whatever. She had said I was pretty!

"What do you think of going to Stan's place?" Rob asked me, his arm casually draped over my shoulder.

"Yeah, that's sounds good," I agreed, suddenly remembering my phone. The ringtone had been driving me crazy, so I'd switched it to silent before we left the hotel room. I pulled it out of my purse, hoping Julie had texted me back. I stared in shock at the little round black device. The red light blinked insistently. The mini-envelope flashed in the corner. The small window announced 86 Missed Calls.

Whoa.


	16. The Review

**k so i'm losing motivation...REVIEW!! please**

I scrolled through my missed calls. My 86 missed calls. 86! Familiar names and unknown numbers flashed on my screen. I noticed one girl who'd begrudgingly been my lab partner for Biology two years ago had called me seven times. Two boys from my homeroom had tried to reach me 12 times each. Random friends I rarely saw—except for the odd party now and then—had called twice or thrice. But the winner was the one girl who had dialed my number a total of 27 times. In a row. She had called four times before that. Natasha Rustjek.

Natasha was one of those girls that achieved queen bee status freshman year. Attractive and desirable, she'd blown her way to notoriety among upper classmen. There was nothing particularly compelling about her; her looks weren't anything special, her personality boring, her financial well being hardly noteworthy. Despite being utterly average in every way, she still roosted high above the rest of us. Natasha would be the one to call for gossip verification, the go-to girl to find out the party schedule of the night. Her opinion weighted the heaviest, of course. Although Natasha and I ran in the same circles, partied with the same crowd—we weren't friends. A casual nod or hesitant smile comprised our hallway interactions. So it was strange to me that her name appeared on my missed calls list 31 times. It got me worried. What was so terribly pressing? Sure, a scandalous picture of me hooking up with an A-List celebrity made the British Tabloids...but did that merit such an onslaught of communication?

I walked next to Rob, vaguely aware of his hand on my waist, his hip pressed against mine, completely absorbed by my blinking phone as I moved on to text messages: 101 texts flooded my inbox. Most from the same people who had called, except for—I noticed scanning the list—Natasha. I flipped by each message, each one saying something along the lines of:

AUDREY!! Are you in L.A.?? Hooking up with Rob Pattzz? CALL MEEE!!

Who knew that the British Sun had so many readers? And then I read my most recent text. It was from my friend Cam. It read, AUD!! You're on PEREZ!! O! M! G!

Hold up. The picture made it on Perez? The picture got on HAHAHA. No. Wait. Really? Seriously? No. I stared in shock at Cam's message. So that explained why so many people had seen it. This is sorta huge.

Rob nudged me, "What's wrong?"

"Umm…we're on Perez. As in Hilton." I stated simply, still engrossed by words on my phone.

"Oh yeah, he's always one of the first. I'm surprised it took him so long."

I looked up at him. He didn't seem bothered by this at all. Perhaps he never went to Perez's website, he never read the biting commentary that accompanies the pictures. I needed to get to a computer, and fast.

"Hey, so where does Stan live?" I tried to take my mind off the possible remarks Perez would have left.

"Oh, he lives out in West Hollywood…but I need to pick up my car," Rob trailed off, still leading me down a busy L.A. street.

"Ok, so where are we going?"

"We're heading back to my place for a second. Like literally, a second."

I padded alongside him, still thumbing through my text messages, and then clearing out my voicemail inbox. I really had no idea so many people had my number. The 74 voicemails took quite a time to sort out because I listened to each one, checking my mother hadn't called me again. By the time I looked up from the rotund black phone, the streets had changed. Smooth wide roads turned off onto long driveways, hedges lining clean sidewalks. Mansions were set back from the road, gates and security cameras dutifully guarding each one. Fewer cars drove past, fewer pedestrians crowded the streets. Rob stopped us outside an imposing fence with tall iron spikes lancing the sky. With a squeal, they swung open, revealing a steep driveway. Thick mature trees blocked the house from view, dark green leaves lending privacy to the abode.

"I thought you lived in an apartment?" I asked him; confused by the building we approached.

"Well, it's a house, but it's renovated into four apartment units. I think we have about 7 people living at this address altogether," he explained, walking straight past the front door. Very little light found its way through the canopy of vegetation, making the front of the house shadowy. He punched some numbers into a keypad in the wall, and a colossal garage door clattered open. Shiny cars filled the dark space, spaced neatly side-by-side.

"Wait here, I'll pull it out first…" he left me standing in the sunless driveway. I shivered from the damp and cold—it was about 20 degrees colder than the rest of sunny L.A.

A pearly Audi roared to life, lights burning from inside the obscure garage. He backed out slowly, letting the engine purr and throb. I couldn't see inside the tinted windows, so I let myself into the car, sliding onto a smooth leather seat. The car smelled like Orbit sweetmint gum mingled with dove soap. Rob turned and grinned at me, switching gears and revving the engine. We rocketed out of the driveway, back into the brilliant sunlight, the car sailing like a dream, hardly rising with the speed bump at the gate. We shot down the wide road, the only car for a few miles. I sat in wonder, admiring the polished wood dashboard, the supple gray leather. The twang of violin strings broke the silence, music suddenly flowing out of the stereo and speakers. The song filled the car, each chord building and building, new instruments layering upon each other. The familiar tune dipped and bowed as Rob wove in and out of the traffic, the Verve's Bittersweet Symphony providing the perfect soundtrack.

This song always made me smile. It was one of my favorites. The crooning melody added texture to the ethereal backbeat, the tune strangely hopeful. It was its name, bittersweet.

"How'd you know to play my favorite song?" I asked Rob, folding one leg under myself.

"Well, it's my favorite song," he admitted, looking at me curiously.

"Really? I love this song! Its such a great song to like, just sit and listen to." I mused, leaning back on the soft seats and reveling in the clarity of his sound system.

"Yeah, it's like its name, it's bittersweet the melody is all sad and hopeful at the same time," he basically repeated my thoughts back to me.

The song wound down, stretching out into a cacophony of instruments and phrases, sound effects and reverb. And then it ended. The soundproof car absorbed it completely. Silence returned as Rob deftly careened around corners and ran through yellow-lights. And then a sweet tinkling emanated from the speaker to my right, the light piano phrasing accompanied by a high soprano voice.

_Oh I could hide 'neath the wings, of a bluebird as she sings, the six o'clock alarm, would never ring…_

The Monkees lilted into the car, and I found myself chirping along. I bounced in time, tilting my head with each syncopated tambourine clash.

"You like cute music, Rob." I sang at him, still bopping to the retro song.

He laughed at me. "I like GOOD music," he corrected.

"Yeah, but it's good CUTE music."

He rolled his eyes, swerving the car into a parking space. I looked around at the neighborhood; Rob's glinting Audi looked a tad out of place. Dented cars lined the street, graffiti scrawled across the walls of high-rising apartment buildings. I could hear the distant sound of a police siren as we walked up a dingy stucco staircase. Rusted metal fire escapes dotted the square buildings, air conditioners sticking halfway out the windows. Rob pounded on a thick wooden door; the red paint chipped and flaked with each blow. I stared in distaste at a neglected plant, the brown organism withering away in its chipped clay pot. A beat-up pair of soccer cleats hung on the stair railing, mud caked onto the laces. Rob placed his arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer to him.

"So this is Stan's?" I asked tentatively, eyeing a large brown stain next to the door.

"This is Stan's," he replied as the crimson weather-beaten door opened. I glanced inside past the hulking figure in front of me. A sleek black marble floor stretched ahead of me, coating the entire room, glittering sinisterly in the afternoon sun. A shaggy white rug adorned the space between a scarlet leather sofa and massive fireplace.

My mouth curved into a delicate "oh," as I stepped into the apartment. Wide windows provided a breathtaking view of the beach, the sun glowing low in the sky. The tops of palm trees shielded from view the abused basketball courts and square low-rise low-income housing. The glass was polished to perfection, not a single streak or smudge interrupting the marvelous view. An elephantine lay-z boy chair, in the matching red leather, faced the jumbo widescreen set in the corner. A small ledge peeked into the kitchen. The sleek fixtures and appliances were crisp and tidy, very clean and orderly. A little hallway had a door on the left and one on the right.

On the right was a small office, housing only a desk, computer and chair. A couple papers cluttered the stainless steel surface, but it looked like a very underused space, minimally furnished.

On the left was a closed door, which I could only assume to be the bathroom. At the end of the miniature corridor was the bedroom, entirely obscured by a giant bed, gold satin sheets tangled and ripped. A disemboweled pillow lay limply on the floor, a small puddle of stark white feathers providing sharp contrast to the onyx marble. Hmm.

Stan's place was the ultimate bachelor pad.

"AUD!" The bathroom door burst open, a mass of tangly curls bounced towards me. Genie gripped me in a bone-breaking hug. "You're ALLLLL over the news!!"

"I know!" I exclaimed at her, grabbing her hand and making a beeline for the computer. "Stan, do you mind if I use your-"

He grunted and walked into the kitchen. Rob followed, shutting the decrepit door with a crunch.

Genie and I squished onto the swivel chair, nearly falling over in the process. I anxiously drummed my fingers against the metal desk, waiting for the Internet connection to load.

"I've gotten like, 86 calls in the past two hours," I relayed.

"Yeah, me too. EVERYONE'S calling me. They know we came here together!"

"What have you been telling them?"

"OH, just like, you guys met at a restaurant, we went to dinner, and then y'all hooked up. I didn't go into specifics or anything." She assured me.

The homepage finally popped up, and I scrambled in the URL at break-neck speed.

"Wait. Guess who called me??" I suddenly remembered Natasha's 31 calls.

"WHO?! Oh my GOD. Chase. Chase called you didn't he?!" She guessed all wrong. Chase was the one guy at my school who I liked. Like, LIKE LIKED. He was in my Spanish class, and although not much separated him from the other 'tards, Chase was someone great to talk to. He wasn't astonishingly cute, but definitely cute enough, and he was kind of a wannabe, but him and I got along really well, and there was always this bizarre chemistry between us. He sort of drove me nuts, constantly confusing me as to where I stood with him. He'd text me incessantly for days at a time, peppering me with questions about the homework to ease into a conversation about what guys I liked. Then he wouldn't talk to me for another slew of days, responding minimally to my own homework questions and virtually ignoring me in the hallways. After that he'd talk to me again, but moderately, finally asking me to hang out at the most inconvenient times. He'd suddenly see if I was free on a Sunday morning, or random Wednesday night. Every time except once I was busy. That one day, we spent watching Harry Potter curled up on his sofa. We'd laughed at the ineptitude of the actors, producing our own spells, all with his arms wrapped around me. We'd huddled under a blanket, his hand resting on my knee while I leaned against him. And then I left. We never hooked up. He'd be at the same parties as me, and always would come over and talk, graciously sharing his forty or weed. A couple times I'd slept at his house, crashing on his bed when I hadn't found a place to sleep that night. We'd fallen asleep holding hands, waking up closer to each other than "friends." During AP season he came over to my house and studied psychology for 8 straight hours with me, our hands grazing as we reached for study guides, our shoulders rubbing against each other when we shared books. But never once had we kissed. I was never sure if he liked me back, or I was just a really good friend to him. I didn't let myself worry about it too much, life was too short, but it always perplexed me, leaving me insecure and confused.

"No. Chase did not call me. But someone else did, like, someone who NEVER EVER calls me…" I taunted Genie.

"WHO!?"

"Natasha!" I cried. "Natasha called me 31 times!"

"31!? Even I don't call you more than 15!" Genie exclaimed, her eyes narrowing at the exorbitant number. She mused, "Natasha never calls anyone. YOU call NATASHA…"

"Yeah I know—it's weird."

Genie furrowed her brow, biting her thumbnail as she thought over the situation. Then her eyes flashed to the computer. I gasped, turning quickly to the screen.

The hot pink website had loaded completely, "Celebrity Juice, Not From Concentrate," tagging the bold and the sheepish picture of Perez himself. I scrolled nervously down the movie ads, waiting for my picture to appear. The first picture was of Michael Phelps—in all his shirtless glory—grinning largely for the camera, proudly holding a gold medal. Ok, I'm not even new news anymore. Ok. Deep breaths. The mouse seemed to take forever to connect, the site gliding sluggishly down to the next picture. Oh this was it. The steamy photo was enlarged, little white dots drawn in a trail down Rob's nose, the classic Perez picture doctoring. The picture was labeled, Rob's Un-whipped! and filed under Anglophilia Yummy Yummy Screw. His caption read:

_Rob Pattinson—playing delicious vampire Edward Cullen in the upcoming Twilight movie—was snapped hooking up with this random girl outside of a sketchy pub last night. Guess that means the hissy-fit Camilla threw the other day at Nobu was for real…_

_Hope this ho doesn't get too caught up in the Hollywood craziness, she seems like a pretty, young, thing. Her and Rob were seen dashing from the scene of the crime hand in hand. AW. New romance with a nobody? We're soo down! We're sick and tired of these inbred celebrity relationships, they're getting quite tiresome! _

_Good luck new girl! Camilla's gonna smack a ho when she hears about this._

WOW. It could be so much worse. SO MUCH WORSE. Perez actually wrote a really nice article. He didn't trash me, basically at all. This could be good.

"SEE!? It's actually a really nice little entry!" Genie screamed at me, pointing out his good luck wish to me.

"Yeah! Wait, I thought it'd be SOO much meaner!"

"Do you think he's kinda joking about Camilla?" Genie asked seriously.

"Umm I hope so…

"I don't think he is. I mean, HE IS but like, not really." Genie reasoned, "You better stay clear of Camilla for now. That woman is craaazy."

"Yeahh…" I thought back to Camilla's sharp fingernails and winced. My mind drifted back to the ripped up pillow in Stan's bedroom. "So…tell me what happened after you two disappeared last night!"

"OH! Well, you guys started getting all into it, so it got kinda awkward. So Stan and I left, and came back here. And basically, well…SO MUCH HAPPENED!"

"I noticed the pillow…"

"OH MY GOD! Well it's not quite what it looks like. So basically, we took a cab back from that pub, and when we got here-"

"Audrey! Genie!" Rob's head peeked into the office. He was holding two drinks in his hands. Stan yelled something incoherently from the kitchen and Genie bounded up. She snatched the drink from Rob's hand and leapt into the kitchen to talk to Stan. So much for her story. Rob came over and placed me on his lap, glancing at the computer.

"So what'd he say this time?"

"Oh umm…well you can read it," I said, sipping the mojito he'd brought me. Rob read it over, smiling slightly at the end.

"Yeah, we'd better keep you away from Camilla…" he agreed, leaning his chin on my shoulder. "But this is rather tame, for Perez. He must've been in a good mood today."

I turned around and kissed him chastely.

"Yup!"


	17. The Purge

Stan's superb stereo system boomed around us, echoing off the high ceilings and stone floor. Genie was on his kitchen countertop, dancing in time to the techno-ey beat, clutching an In & Out burger. We'd made a quick run to the burger stand after emptying out Stan's liquor cabinet, the alcohol swishing uncomfortably in our empty bellies, crying for food to absorb it. I was curled up in Rob's arms on the red leather sofa, drifting closer towards sleep with each synchronized breath, while his hands gently combed through my hair. I could feel my eyes growing heavier and heavier, the room darkening, the loud music fading as I lay against Rob's chest, comfortably tucked between him and the soft leather. Suddenly, a much smaller hand grasped mine, tugging me away from the strong, sure pillow I nestled against. I followed dumbly, drunk and drowsy, allowing Genie to lead me into Stan's bedroom. She pushed me onto the bed, shoving a box of fries and milkshake into my hands before switching on the light. I stared at her confused with a blank stare, absentmindedly nibbling the French fries while I tried to steady myself as the bed groaned and bounced under her weight.

"OK! Story TIME!" She announced, a little too loudly. Everything was a little too much; the lights were a little too bright, the greasy French fries smelled a little too salty, the bed a little too bouncy. My stomach rolled and clenched as I tasted the fake strawberry flavor of my milkshake. I continued to gaze at her blandly, simply waiting for her to tell her story so I could go back to sleep.

"Soooo….after Stan and I left the pub, we got burritos!" She stated excitedly.

"Whoo," I replied unenthusiastically, really moved by the suspense and fascination of her story.

"GOD, there's MORE!" She rolled her eyes and gripped me by the shoulders, trying to shake some life back into me. "Turns out he likes to get a grilled steak super burrito with extra sour cream, mild salsa and LOTS of cheese. JUST LIKE ME!"

Was she kidding? This was the story?

"Are you kidding? This is the story?" I asked her, struggling to form full sentences.

"NO! It's just you know, kinda cool! We like our burritos the same way…" She looked pretty astonished by the thought. "ANYWAYS, so after we got burritos, we came back here. And when we walked in, it was all super dark and stuff, so I tripped over this shoe! It was a girl's shoe…"

I tried to put an interested look on my face, but I wasn't sure how successful I was—I was pretty beat.

"So I'm like, why is a girl's shoe here? And then we walk back towards the bedroom, and the door's shut and we hear all these naughty noises coming from it. So Stan sorta backs away looking scared, and I just bang it open. And ITS DORRIE! With this FAT black guy, and they're having like, the raunchiest sex of my life. They messed up all the sheets, and the covers and pillows were all over the floor, like ripped up! It was really gross." Genie continued her story, seemingly unaware of disinterest.

"SO then Stan goes, WHAT THE FUCK!? GET OUT OF MY BED! And they see us, and the guy just flips out and jumps out the window. Literally. THEN…Dorrie's like, stark naked in Stan's bed and just sits there for like, a minute without saying anything. It kinda got awkward. So Stan's like, Dorrie?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!? And Dorrie just looks away and is like, umm Stan I have to tell you something..."

I realized we were sitting on the same bed Genie was referring to. The sheets were still all twisted and out of place. Um. EW. I promptly allowed myself to slide off the bed onto the floor, leaning against the wall so as not to touch the STD laden mattress.

"So Stan's just like, 'What is it this time Dorrie? Are you pregnant?' like all sarcastic and stuff. And she just looks at him and doesn't say anything. Meanwhile I'm just standing there! And she's still fucking naked! So Stan like, freaks out and runs to the kitchen leaving me alone with Nakey Dorrie. So I'm like, 'You're pregnant? You sure it's Stan's?' Because, like, WHAT ELSE am I going to say!? And I guess she got really offended or whatever because all of a sudden she was pulling my hair and scratching me. IT WAS INTENSE. But I couldn't hit her back because I can't fight a PREGNANT woman! What if the baby gets hurt?! So I just kinda tried to push her off me, which was still really hard to do because she didn't have any clothes on!!"

I just stared at Genie, completely bewildered by her bizarre story. The strangest things happened to her.

"So finally she stops attacking me and starts crying. And I give her a sheet to wrap herself in because it was getting weird with her hugging me and everything. So I'm just saying things like, 'It'll be ok, everything will work out, you'll be fine' when all of a sudden the bitch starts hitting me again. And I'm like, WHAT THE FUCK!? So I start fighting her because I figure the baby's probably going to be a devil child ANYWAYS. So we're like, clawing and scratching when Stan comes running in and pulls me off of her. And he's like, 'Genie!? What's wrong with you? She's pregnant!' And then I get PISSED because WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DEFENDING HER FOR!? So I just run away. And I leave them in the room. So then I decided I would go to the Four Season's and cockblock you two because I had noting better to do."

I could feel my energy draining away, consciousness ebbing as the alcohol inside of me began claiming control.

"But of course Stan has to live in maybe the shittiest part of L.A. And it's like, 1 in the morning and I'm by myself. So I'm walking down this sketch-ass street when this creeper comes up to me. He 's like, GIANT and he's wearing big baggy clothes and stuff. So I decide to be nice to get him to leave me alone. And he's all like, 'Hey honey…how you doin'? Need a place to stay sweetcheeks?' like saying all this gross stuff. So I'm like, 'No I don't need anything, thanks.' Which of course doesn't make him go, but he kinda like, FOLLOWS ME. Like, he walked a little behind me and started freeeaakkking me out! Then like, out of NOWHERE he grabs me and pushes me against a wall. And he's like got me pinned against the wall and is trying to undo my pants. So I start screaming because I'm basically about to get raped. And I'm like, kicking him and stuff but he's soo HUGE that it doesn't make any difference,"

I tried my hardest to focus; I actually needed to hear this because as her best friend, it was my duty to hear her hardships.

"So just as he puts his hand over my mouth to stop me from screaming, he like, kinda falls over to the side. And STAN IS THERE! Stan like, knocked him out with one punch. And he SAVED ME! But I'm still pissed at him, so I go 'Thanks!! I hate you!' then I guess that sort of hurt his feelings because he looked really heartbroken. And then he started saying how sorry he was about Dorrie, and that he only sided with her because he didn't want the baby to get hurt, and that he'd run after me as soon as I left. But I was still a little unsure because, I mean, he DID get her pregnant, like he DOES technically have an allegiance to her now. So I told him that, and he said, wait, like this is what he ACTUALLY SAID- Audrey, are you listening??" Genie snapped at me, waiting for me to focus my eyes on her entirely before she continued.

"Ok, he said, 'Genie. Even though I've only known you for a few days, I feel like you are the one I'm meant to be with. I want to make us work because I can be myself around you. Please trust me when I say Dorrie and I are finished. I will do anything to make this happen between us.' HE SAID THAT. How sweet is that?? Like, he REALLY REALLY likes me, and wants to BE with ME! Stanislav Ianevski!! VIKTOR KRUM!"

"Wow," I managed to say.

"So then we came back here, and Dorrie was gone, and we boned in the kitchen. It was basically the best sex of my LIFE. The end."

Genie hopped off the bed and pulled me off the floor, dragging me back into the living room. I felt bad that I didn't have a good response to her story, that I couldn't force my mind to completely process all that had happened to her. But the need to sleep was overwhelming. Actually, not really the need to sleep. My physical needs suddenly changed. The drowsiness that had engulfed me for the past twenty minutes quickly morphed into nausea—my stomach churned sickeningly. I spun out of Genie's grasp, clutching my tummy as I dashed into the bathroom. Uh oh. GROSS.

I was suddenly acutely aware of everything again, miraculously cogent and articulate. But I was throwing up. I purged my body of the toxins I had greedily consumed in the earlier hours, expunging all traces of alcohol.

"Oh honey," Genie muttered apologetically, holding my hair back.

"YUCK! Ok, I'm BACK!" I exclaimed, shakily wiping my mouth. The fog I had been in since the first mojito lifted, I could see everything clearly and plainly again.

"Good! Ew you stink, let's get you some gum." Genie waved the rancid air in front of her, leaving me in the bathroom to find a mint of some sort.

I slumped on the tiled floor, cooling my head against the wall. Stan really wanted to be with Genie, my best friend. Genie, who I had met the very first day of high school, who had sported a near-afro of curly hair and mouthful of braces. Who had been strikingly skinny and bony, awkwardly tall, and had named Mexico as the capital city of Spain in our first history class. Genie hadn't discovered the wonders of contacts by that time, so she'd stalk the hallways without her glasses, basically blind and deaf as she blasted cheesy elevator music from her ipod. I laughed as I reminisced her in all her freshman glory, wincing as I recalled the stubby troll who had stumped along beside her, me. My eyebrows had gathered thickly above my eyes, as I hadn't quite discovered the beauty of tweezers. I was even shorter and chubbier than I am now, truly naïve in the world of clothing and makeup. Genie and I had not been cute, but our personalities had complimented each other's, fitting together neatly like two pieces of a puzzle. Our conversations had slowly evolved from books to music to celebrities to boys, as we had matured through high school, our tastes in the likes of which hadn't changed much. Genie still loved Harry Potter as much now as she had when we had gushed about the newly released fifth book. I still was utterly enraptured by The Spice Girls as I had been in first grade, Genie and I still mourning for our inability to attend the reunion concert. Our quirky and shamefully lame taste in entertainment had brought us closer together, forging a bond. I'll never forget the freshman biology class in which we shared a lab table. We had ignored the teacher, determinedly spending class time talking about the highly anticipated release of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire movie. Genie had gushed about the sexiness of a nobody actor named Stanislav Ianevski, dragging me into the library at free periods to ogle at his cast picture. I had staunchly claimed the dishy actor playing Cedric Diggory was the finer of the two; forcing us to agree to disagree.

And here we were now: me struggling my way to sobriety in Ianevski's bathroom, Genie perusing his apartment for gum. Here we were now, wrapped up in the complicated love lives of the actors we had been besotted with for four years. Here we were now, both experiencing every touch and kiss we had craved from the two men, waking up in their bedrooms', holding their hands, sharing their meals. The absurdity of the situation was magnate.

"Here! Listerine pocket packs were the best I could do!" Genie rushed back into the small bathroom, shoving the minty box in my hands. "Do you think you can stand up?" She bustled over me.

"Yeah! I'm fine, I'm totally good now," I replied, pushing myself off the floor smoothly. I slowly advanced towards the sofa, still fighting the terribly pounding in my head that threatened to bowl me over as I found my way into Rob's arms. He was half-asleep—eyes drooping lazily, his strong chiseled jaw and cheek-bones relaxed into the face of an angel—but managed to pull me close to his chest, spooning against me, grasping me tight to him. I finally allowed sleep to overcome me, drifting peacefully into the darkness.


	18. The Goodbye

I could feel the sun steadily climbing across my face, the warm rays of light growing closer and closer to my shuteyes. I was still wrapped up in Rob' arms, tightly pressing against him, our hands intertwined. The leather underneath me stuck to my legs, plastering my skin to the sofa. We lay in the quiet, the hot still air gathered around us. Suddenly, Rob twitched. His body shuddered; his arms loosened me for just a split second. But that was all it took. I landed on the shag carpet on my stomach. OOF. Of course I would fall of the couch. I sat up and looked around, blinking stupidly in the morning sun. Rob laid peacefully on the couch, locks of his thick hair glinting in the sunlight. His t-shirt had inched upwards, revealing a swath of his smooth muscled stomach. I gazed at him dreamily, letting myself eye him like a stalker, letting the sight of him fill my vision.

My cell phone vibrated rudely on the coffee table. I glanced at it, not prepared to speak to any of my fame-seeking friends, but it was a friend of any sort, it was my mother.

"Hello Mom" I sighed into the phone, never taking my eyes of Rob in his ridiculously sexy slumber.

"Audrey, you're coming home today—aren't you?" she snapped briskly into the phone. Her words hit me like a thunderbolt. It shook through me, rocking me to the core. I had forgotten there was an expiration date on this lovely trip, and end to this week of nirvana.

"Um, yeah…" I mumbled dejectedly into the phone. "But I was wondering, can Genie and I stay just a couple of days more?" I harangued, a tiny flicker of hope in my voice.

"No. I want you home, now. Call us when you're halfway home."

The small flame inside me sputtered out. It was over. It was time to go home and end this.

"Yeah, we'll get back late though. We have to have a final…um….brunch," I muttered bitterly, trying to buy myself time. Time to say good-bye.

"Alright, just keep in touch!" she reminded me before hanging up.

I stared at Rob's strong arms, his muscled torso, his perfect face. A gentle smile hovered on his lips, his soft lips. Sure, he'd asked me to be his girlfriend, but that could only apply if I was there—a.k.a, physically present. This beautiful paradise was over. Truly. I drew my knees up to my chest, hugging them close to me, gripping my legs tight, not wanting to let go. The stinging in my eyes threatened to overcome me in tears, a hard lump rising in the back of my throat. Reality really sucked. I got up as soon as the first tear rolled down my cheek; I didn't want Rob waking to me crying over him. It was just pathetic.

As the coffee machine gurgled and belched, I wiped away my tears I patted my face, trying to dispel the blotchiness and relieve my eyes of the red puffiness. I turned to pour myself a mug of the warm liquid, watching the coffee splash down the side, leaving little brown droplets speckling the light blue cup. I breathed in the strong aroma, letting it fill my nostrils. I focused on identifying the mix of flavors and spices, attempting to push away my sadness. Nutmeg, definitely. And a little cocoa with hazelnut. A heady Kenyan bean, obviously packaged with a few vanilla beans. My breathing slowly returned to normal as I downed the first gulp, burning my tongue before the hot coffee slid down my throat. Cinnamon, too.

And then his arms were around me, his cheek pressed against mine. I clutched my coffee to my chest as I turned into him, brushing my lips to his. We stood there for a good minute, his hold never loosening, our bodies never losing contact. The kiss was tender, soft as he gently molded his mouth to mine. It was just how it was supposed to be; nothing was sweeter than this moment—us simply together, as one unit. My tongue delved deeper into his mouth with a fierce tension, fighting down the rising knot in my throat with his kisses. But it came anyway. The hot tears spilled out of my eyes uncontrollably, rolling swiftly down my cheek, wetting his. I kept the sob at bay, allowing only my salty tears to betray me.

Rob stopped, pulling his head back, but thankfully never letting go. His eyes were worried, his mouth turned down into a frown.

"What is it?"

I just stared at him with watery eyes, letting the tears course down my face and plop into my coffee.

"I have to go home," I mumbled looking away. This was embarrassing—I shouldn't be putting on such a display. It was bad enough I had to leave him, but now I was leaving him like some clingy overemotional girl. He'd see just how much I'd miss him, just how much he mattered to me. And though I knew I mattered to him, a little, it was nowhere near the magnitude of the feelings I had for him. Nowhere near.

His face didn't change, he just nodded; the same look of concern shadowing his features.

"I have to go home, today," repeated, a little stronger—trying to force myself to accept the horrible reality.

"Today?" he asked incredulously.

"Yup. Genie's gotta go, too." I reminded him, finally gaining control of my tears.

Alarm flashed across his face.

"You're leaving. Today?" he asked again.

I nodded silently, trying to maneuver out of his arms to go wake up Genie, I had a lot of packing to do—my clothes were strewn across three different places in L.A.

Rob pulled his hair, looking somewhat upset as I gathered my clothes into a ball near my purse, I didn't want to look at him, I didn't want to bring on a new flood of weeping.

"Well…when? I mean, I have to go do an interview today…" he stammered, trailing off,

"I'm not sure, we probably have to hit the road by like, 2ish?" I quickly calculated the 8 hour drive in my head—if I got home any later than 10:30 my mom would kill me.

His face fell. "I have to go to this interview at like…" he checked his watch. "11. And I wont get out of there 'til 4."

A new stab of sorrow pierced me. This left us two hours together. I ran back to him, burying my face in his shoulder as I gripped his shirt. I dint care if I was acting like the desperate fan girl I was, I just wanted to stay with him. He brushed my hair and kissed my forehead before lifting me up on the counter. I circled my legs around his hips, drawing him close to me. He kissed me once, tucking his head by my neck. I leaned my head on his chest, trying to ignore the ache in my heart. So this was it. This was pretty much the end. His hands gently rubbed my back, drawing tiny circles while I absentmindedly plucked his shirt.

"Morning, you TWO!" Genie's loud voice rang from the refrigerator; she pulled out a carton of Chinese food, chowing down on a leftover potsticker.

I turned and looked at her, not releasing my grip on Rob for a second she met my tear soaked gaze with worry, and then a spasm of understanding, her mouth fell open, the ox of Chinese food thumped to the floor.

"Oh no1!" She cried, biting her lips as she spun out of the room and called down the hallway. "Stan! We're LEAVING!" I heard his inarticulate exclamation as Genie dashed down the hall.

The hours flew quickly, a blur of Rob and me eating breakfast, forcing laughter and a good mood. We had cuddled on Stan's couch, talking softly and slowly, trying to find the right words to say good-bye. I walked down the stairs with him, following him to his car before he drove away. We kissed somberly, wrapped in each other's arms. His eyes were sorrowful as he stared down at me, and I felt myself familiarly falling into their depths just like I had the first time we'd met. He'd whispered that he would call me, that he'd come to San Francisco all summer long, and I'd promised him the same—that I'd visit L.A as frequently as possible. But we both knew that wasn't going to happen, we both knew that our time together was spent, our number was up. He'd pressed his lips to my hand before he drove away, gazing longingly as he switched gears and pressed the gas.

"See you later," I said to him, smiling weakly after the car. The usual choked up feeling in my throat returned, accompanied by a tight constriction in my chest. I breathed in and out. In and out. In and out, desperately searching for something to occupy my thoughts. All I had in my head was his face, swimming before me. I slowly found my way up the stairs and back into Stan's apartment, systematically helping Genie gather her clothes.

Stan drove us back to the Four Season's, where we rode the shiny elevator back up to the eleventh floor. I watched the numbers climb higher and higher; the doors glide open, the hallway yawn before me. A couple photographers milled around the bedroom, the few stragglers left over from the mob the day before. They snapped a couple shots of Genie and Stan, but I wrenched my sunglasses on, trying hard to disguise the tears brimming my eyes. The lovely room at the Four Seasons was neat and tidy. It glowed golden just as it had before, but it was different. It could have been any room in any Four Seasons in any city. There was nothing that made it my room anymore. It was just perfunctorily gorgeous; the part that had made it stunning was missing. I shoved my clothes back into the ripped shopping bag, checking I had my makeup and jewelry from the bathroom. One of his belts lay on the countertop. I eyed it sadly, choosing against taking it with me—that would have been a little weird, even for me.

The car ride to the Palazzio was silent. I sat in the back of the jeep, jealously watching Genie and Stan hold hands. It felt like ages since I had slept at the cheap motel. The withering palm trees still guarded the entrance, the corridors still fluorescently lit. Of course nothing had changed—it'd been about three days. Stan sat unobtrusively on one of the beds as Genie and I scurried around the hotel room, bundling up our clothes. I spied a crumpled blanket on the floor in front of the window, recalling Rob's short-lived attempt to sleep on the floor. All too soon everything was packed. All too quickly it was 1:45 and Genie's little mint green Prius hummed to life in the parking lot. I sat on the driver's seat, deciding to be the one to drive this time. Genie and Stan were up against the trunk of the car. I wasn't quite sure what they were doing, but it was making me bounce up and down a bit. Sheesh.

The passenger side door slammed shut and Genie was beside me. Her bottom lip quivered but her eyes were set in a dead stare. She'd never looked so determined not to cry. Stan leaned in through the open window and kissed her quickly.

"Call me when you get back, we'll figure something out," he ordered her, staring intently into her eyes.

"Yeah," she mustered, her voice slightly cracking. I could tell we had to leave now, we had to get away from him within the next thirty seconds or she would lose it. And I knew, the last thing she wanted was to break down in front of him. Normal people cried, but not Genie. She shoved every bad thought, every negative emotion deep inside of her, smoothing over her sadness with contagious happiness, effusive frivolity. I'd only seen Genie cry once, freshman year when she had lost the election for class president. She had raced from school upon seeing the results, trudging back to her house to sit on her front steps and cry. I'd followed her, discovering her huddled against her front door, bawling. To my knowledge, I was the only person at our school to witness her tears. So I knew, that this was the utmost importance to her, to keep it together with Stan still nearby.

"Bye. Thanks, Stan. It was great to meet you," I offered him, backing out of the parking space. Genie stared at him, breathing harshly as his face swung out of view into the shadows. He waved and she returned the small gesture, raising her hand.

We drove without music or talking, the only sound breaking the silence was Genie's sniffling. My tears had since dried up; I'd cried them all in the morning. Southern California sun beamed into the car, shining into my eyes as we steadily drove up highway 1. The scenic twist and turns of the road are legendary, the breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean, sharp drops off the cliffs, smooth air flapping through windows—all this was lost on us. Our heads were back in LA, back at Stan's swanky apartment, back at the glittering Four Seasons' restaurant, back at the smoky pub, back at a pulsing nightclub, back at a dumpy motel, back at a stifling teahouse. The memories of our trip flooded back to me, bringing with them a helpless wave of nostalgia. We'd been in Los Angeles for a total of 4½ days, a full 5 nights, yet it felt like an eternity.

Genie stared out the window, her breathing normal again. The quiet in the car was oppressive, emphasizing our bitterness. I pushed the radio on, desperate for background noise.

_Our song is slammin' screen doors, staying out late, tappin' on your window_

_When we're on the phone and you talk real slow, 'cause it's late and your mama _

_don't know_

Taylor Swift's feel-good song chirped out of the speakers. The happy strumming of the guitars and carefree lyrics plunged me into deeper despair. I frantically spun the tuner, praying for some nice emo music to compliment my mood.

_Lil mama had a swag like mine, she even wear her hair down her back like mine _

_I make her feel right when its wrong like lyin' _

_Man she ain't never had a love like mine, but man I ain't never seen an ass like hers, that pussy in my mouth had me loss for words _

_Told her to back it up, like berp berp, and I made that ass jump, like jerp jerp _

Lollipop warbled into the car, the saucy lyrics a little too graphic for the ambience. The song wasn't exactly a happy song, but it did imply satisfaction at the very least—which still made me want to scream. I jabbed the radio tuner again and again, finding only joyful music to match the warm weather.

I sighed in exasperation, handing my ipod to Genie for her to find something sad. The mp3 player ticked and clicked as she scrolled through my turquoise nano.

"Angry Angst? Or Depressing?" She asked, reading my playlists out loud.

"I say…Depressing. We have plenty of time for Angry Angst," as small smile creeping out of my mouth, regardless. I was proud that I had my music so organized to my mood.

Inara George floated through the car, her wispy voice lamenting a lost love. This was more like it. We sat back as song after melancholy song played, the road speeding by, the sun sinking down into the ocean. The ride home was so much faster than it had been on the way there. By the time we reached Santa Cruz my host of sobering tunes ran out, and we switched to my angry music. Screams and drum clashes, ripping guitar and static blasted around us, lyrics undistinguishable from the clamor. It was 10 at night when I pulled up to my house. The streetlights faintly illuminated my sleepy block. I lived two blocks from the ocean, in a residential area of San Francisco. A residential area in which all the old people seemed to live, so there were never any parties. Fog swirled around the street, the biting damp soaking my thin cardigan, raising goose bumps on my bare legs. Oh yeah, it was summer in San Francisco, as in…fog. Genie switched places with me, hopping into the drivers seat. We had cheered ourselves up enough to laugh at my intense music selection, to make fun of the names of the exits on the freeway, to stop and hopelessly flirt with the creepy truck drivers at Sonic. We tried to push Rob and Stan out of our minds, knowing that we would just relapse into tears if we let our thoughts wander to them. She tossed me my ipod, blowing me a kiss and a cheesy grin before screeching away.

I lugged my bags back into the house, thudding them down in my room.

"Hello!?" I called towards the kitchen while I pulled on a pair of sweat pants.

I could hear my mom and sister calling me from the kitchen.

"Hey!" I plastered a satisfied smile on my face as I sauntered towards my family.

"How was L.A….TAWDRY??" My sister giggled at her little pun. Good for her, she expanded her vocabulary!

"It was fun, thanks!" I said overenthusiastically, my voice dripping with malice.

"The drive was ok? No accidents or anything?" My mom would never stop being a smother-mother.

"No it was fine. Boring…but fine," I hugged my dad first. He, I could handle. My dad was sort of a chill being. He never overreacted to anything, except how much perfume I was wearing, and just let me be me. He let me go where I please as long as I was safe. My mother, on the other hand...well…just a tad different. My younger sister, Melanie, was entirely different breed of cat. 13 and in the throes of newfound teenager status, she felt it was her duty to besmirch me as much as possible. She'd go out of her way to look prettier than me, dress snazzier, listen to hipper music, rubbing all her online conversations with boys in my face. It didn't bother me, as much as she thought it did, I was completely secure in being my own person—but it did get tiresome.

"Did you eat?" My mom gestured to a pot of simmering stew on the stove. Lumps of beef floated to the top of the murky broth. No thank you.

"Yeah, we stopped and got burgers," I answered with a yawn. "Hey I'm really tired…I'll tell you all about it tomorrow?"

The little trio nodded blandly as I bid them goodnight. I settled back into my room, tugging on a sweatshirt and pulling my hair into a tight ponytail—standard Audrey procedure. I dumped my suitcase into my laundry basket, not quite in the mood for sorting out the clean from the dirty from the worn. I looked around at my plain room, at my plain walls with plain drapes and plain rug with the plain laptop on it. Nothing dazzled me. Nothing bowled me over. Nothing stunned me. Even if it was my room that I'd lived in for 17 years, SOMETHING should get me going. But nothing. It was all so plain plain plain plain plain plain. Was it this plain when I had left earlier this week? Surely not. I probably would have committed suicide if I had lived in such a plain room. And then I spied a printed out picture of Rob. It was tacked on my bulletin board, shyly peeking from underneath my college acceptance letters. His eyes glared up at me, his lips twisted into a brooding pout. My stomach flipped as I gazed at the photo. I'd seen this picture maybe a million times. Ok. Definitely a million times. I'd stared and stared into those eyes, wishing every single time that the picture would jump alive and greet me. I imagined his pout would suddenly turn into a heartbreaking smile, his furrowed brow would relax. But now I COULD see that happening. I COULD envision Rob's tense face cracking into a smile, his eyes squinting at the corners, his cheeks impossibly cherubic. It made the anguish of being home all the worse. Yet I couldn't look away. I was unable to tear my eyes from his faded picture.

I ripped the college letters off the board, revealing another two pictures. I unpinned my graduation cap and diploma—four more pictures. I rapidly tore down every memento I had pinned up on that bulletin board, letting them scatter and crumple to the floor, until it was back. My beatific collage, my homage to Mr. Rob Pattinson. 50 odd Robs stared down at me; some smiled, some beamed, some scowled, some sneered, some smirked, some fixed me with such an intense look of sorrow that I almost cried out. His hair changed from picture to picture; curly in one, windswept in another, shaggy in a couple, cropped short in a few, but a coppery tangly mess in most. My chest tightened and released as I took in the sight, my tummy jumping at each new picture. I sank down on my bed, never taking my eyes off at least one of him. God I was such a creeper! But I couldn't help it. I lit a candle on the dresser beneath the board before turning out my light, hoping the small flame would illuminate some of the pictures. I grabbed the first photo I had seen, the brooding scowling photo, he was staring straight into the camera, straight at me, and hugged it too me. Crawling under my covers, snuggling down into the warm comforter I placed it on my pillow. I snatched up my biggest stuffed animal—a plushy Loch Ness monster—and held it tight in my arms. Curling up as best I could, I just lay there, with the giant stuffed animal and a picture of Rob, missing him terribly. I took a deep breath, trying to expel the sad thoughts that had crept into my head, instead filling my head with a wonderful daydream. I imagined Rob was here, he held me close to him as I drifted to sleep, breathing gently into my hair, softly rubbing my fingers with his. I let this dream take me over, I let it fill my essence, let it delude me into thinking it was real. I clung to it, hoping it would give me the peace of mind to fall asleep. Exhaustion finally won out, finally pulled me under—whether I had tricked myself into thinking I was with Rob or not—and I slept. I slept long. I was dreaming, but it was a dream of nothing. Like someone was playing a videocassette tape that had reached the end and just buzzed away in blackness. It hummed and droned, tirelessly playing the blank movie for me. It went on for ages, for days. Most of my dreams were fast and fleeting, inexplicably vivid but hard to hold on to, their striking details and complicated twists slipped from my memory daily. But this was completely different. Entirely memorable and simple. And long. I dreamed this dream until I woke. Until my mother was standing at my door, shrieking at me to get out of bed while my clock flashed 11 am in bright cherry red letters, and the phone rang disturbingly in my ear.

I pulled myself out of bed, not caring how ugly I looked. I knew by this time my sister had already taken a shower, shaved, blow-dried her hair, and meticulously done her makeup. She had already fussed and figured out the perfect outfit, all while catching up on the celebrity news from the night before. I stumbled into the kitchen, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Wow. Really really really not cute. My eyes were puffy and swollen, making my face look chubbier than normal. My hair curved and lopsided into crazy kinks, the acne along my hairline stood out disgustingly. Goodness gracious. I managed to swallow down some coffee before turning and facing my family. They were seated in their nice little spots, my dad studying the paper, my sister picking at her croissant, my mom hunched over the crossword puzzle.

"Morning sunshine!" my dad sang at me, still reading the latest on the upcoming condominium conversion charter amendment proposed by the Committee of Budget and Finance—whoo!

"Good morning," I grumbled, helping myself to a bowl of fruit.

"So how was the reunion?" my mom asked absentmindedly, scratching off one of the clues to the crossword. "Meet any nice boys?"

I chuckled, "Yeah, there was this one guy. He sorta asked me to be his girlfriend…" Why not just tell the truth through the lie? It'd be easier.

My sister glanced up at me, her mouth dropping open in disbelief. I glowered at her, "His name was…Robert…o. Roberto."

"So what'd you tell him sweetie," my mom continued the conversation without looking up from the intersecting boxes and lines.

"I told him yes, but then we realized long distance would be kinda hard…so I don't know what we are now," I answered.

My sister just raised her eyebrow at me, clearly not believing that someone had asked to be MY boyfriend in such a short amount of time. Hmph.

My dad grunted, "Audrey I don't want you seeing any boys right now, you have school to focus on."

"Dad, it's summer."

"It's all the same, you lose focus for one second and its gone…the rest of your life."

I rolled my eyes. It wasn't like they were even going to see my reaction to their comments, both my parents never once looked up from the paper they were oh so engrossed with. God, parental relationships are such a lie.

"I'm going to take a shower," I announced, throwing my bowl in the sink. I stomped back to my room, peeling off my clothes as I darted into my bathroom. The water bounced and echoed off the tiles, chiming slightly as it danced on the floor. I washed my hair thoroughly, scrubbed my body clean, letting the steam wash over me. Then the chiming again. It was louder, kinda like a doorbell. I thought nothing of it as I yanked the knobs shut, jumping back to my room in a flash. I pulled on my ugly fat jeans and a giant t-shirt. No reason to impress the fam on the weekend. I quickly put on some eyeliner and mascara—just so I wouldn't scare people away. My hair was up in the towel turban as I plopped onto my floor, sorting through the mess of letters, pictures and old playbills I had removed from my bulletin the night before. But I heard voices in the living room. I heard the tinkling sound of my mother's fake laughter, the growling noise of my dad's lame joke cracking. But there was another voice. A smoother voice. A British voice. We didn't have any neighbors from England, at least, I didn't think we did. I listened raptly, frozen in place as I strained my ears to catch their conversation. It fell in and out of frequency, frustrating me beyond all end. I wanted to dash out into the hallway to see for myself, but I was dressed like a complete idiot. I squashed my hopes, forcing away the ebullient feeling inside me—it was probably just our new neighbor, from England. Right. My door flew open, my sister stood before me, eyes wide and agape. I looked at her still organizing the stupid papers on the floor.

Melanie opened her mouth and closed it, trying to say something but obviously incapable of articulating. DUH. I stared at her expectantly, the same little bubble growing inside me despite my best efforts.

"What is it?"

She whispered something, only a small whoosh of air audible as it passed through her lips.

"What?"

Finally she managed to squeak out noise. Her voice was small and cautious, as though not quite believing her own words.

"He's here."


	19. The Surprise

**Ok so i'm sorry the last few chapters have been so long...let me know if i should shorten them because i'm bad at gauging these sort of things. **

**And thanks for reading and bearing with my terribly cheesy moments!! I'm getting tons of hits and visitors--but not so many reviews!...hmm**

I stared at my sister. Just straight up stared. He couldn't be here. Why would he be here? How could he be here? No. it wasn't the "he" I wanted it to be. Definitely not. I shrugged at her nonchalantly, tossing the collection of bus transfers into the trashcan.

"Who's he, Mel?"

I wasn't going to do this. I really had to stop thinking about him or else I would go crazy. I was going to find myself a nice boy, scour the streets of San Francisco for an attractive straight guy who I could force myself on. That was my plan. No more of this "I am Robert Pattinson's girlfriend" business.

"Umm…Aud, He's HERE!" She finally gained control of her voice again, imploring me to accept the impossible.

I glared up at her, my fingers crushing my AP score report from two years ago. I stared at her with the greatest scorn I could muster.

"WHO"S HE!?" I growled through gritted teeth. If he was here, I needed to know it. I needed to hear it word for word, so there would be no mistakes.

"God AUDREY! You're SO stupid! ROBERT PATTINSON IS FUCKING HERE!" she yelled at me, ripping the paper from my hands and pulling me off the floor.

A giddy tremor rippled through me, an ear to ear grin spreading across my face.

"Really?" I whispered, knowing that there was no way she was lying.

She rolled her eyes and stalked into my closet, grabbing my hairbrush.

"DUH. You need to brush your hair, you look like shit by the way."

My eyes widened in horror as I raced to find something to change into. I yanked the towel turban off my head, dragging the hairbrush through my tangled wet hair. I clawed through my drawers, desperately searching for my black leggings. After ten seconds of rushed half-assed primping, I studied my reflection. My hair was sopping, but dried enough to still have shape. My giant white t-shirt looked like a tent over the black leggings I had pulled on. My thin layer of mascara and eyeliner definitely left a lot to be desired. I smeared on foundation, rubbing on brown eye shadow before touching up my eyeliner. Ok…umm…I looked…alright.

"This as good as it's going to get. GO TALK TO HIM!" Melanie shoved me into the hallway.

As I slowly walked down the corridor to the living room, I could hear the sounds of my parents and Rob's conversation growing louder. My mom was giggling nervously, the insecurity thick in her voice as she offered Rob tea. His modest and polite reply sounded completely out of place, his high brow voice with its British accent not quite what I was used to hearing from my living room. I hesitated before the entryway, the sofa where he was sitting was hidden from view by my parents' favorite oak wardrobe. I breathed as silently as possible, my heart pounding, a red heat creeping on my face. I fidgeted with my trembling fingers, waiting for the right moment to make my entrance, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. The wooden floorboards beneath me emitted a deafening creak. Ok, guess now would be the time to go into the room

I stepped cautiously down the stair into my sunken living room, taking in the usual sight. My parents were seated on the chairs facing me, my dad's expression hard and sinister. My mother's face was lit up and glowing she stared at the figure on the sofa. Of course it was angled just so that his back was to me, only his broad shoulders and the back of his head visible. My dad looked up and greeted me with such a look of loathing I faltered. My mom glanced up at me too, an excited smile quivering on her lips. And then he turned, following their gaze.

My heart basically stopped beating as I stared into his eyes. They met mine with such warmth and adoration I almost fainted. His parted lips lifted from his polite purse to a genuine smile as I moved closer to him. The living room was suddenly ten times larger than I remembered, the distance between the sofa and little step miles upon miles. Time seemed to stretch into infinity as I crossed the hardwood floors never taking my eyes off his wondrous face.

There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many words I had dreamed up to say to him, to convince him that we belonged together. Terribly cheesy and embarrassingly corny phrases I had concocted in my head. But t I had to play it cool. I mean, he couldn't think I was some deranged crazy fan. Plus my parents were right there.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I finally neared the seating area. God, that was a little rude. Maybe I should've said hello first. I glanced at my mom to see her reaction, and sure enough, a shadow had crossed her face—a tight mean look that displayed her disappointment in my lack of manners. My dad looked a little proud of my not so warm welcome.

"Well…I was in the area…" Rob stated slowly. Ok, sure, he was in the area. Uh huh. "And I'd thought I'd stop by, see how you're doing."

His story didn't convince me and I happily jumped onto the sofa next to him, regretfully keeping the distance between us for my dad's sake.

"Oh ok. I see you've met my parents," I gestured to my mother and father, curling my legs under me and leaning slightly toward him.

"Yes, we've met Rob," my mom echoed. Wow this was getting really awkward really fast. But I could care less, he was here, with me.

"Um…do you want to…see the Cliff House?" I offered Rob, grasping at straws for conversation and an excuse to be alone with him. He caught on.

"Oh I'd love to," he nodded emphatically.

"K, let's go!" I bounced off the sofa and half-ran to the front door, desperate to get away from my parents. I could feel my mom's narrowed stare on my back, her suspicious glare. Too bad.

It took ages for Rob to politely shake my dad's hand, to smile nicely at my mother, to tell them how nice it was to meet them, to do all the formalities before walking out the door with me. It took forever for us to stump down the stairs with my mom and dad standing at the top. It took more or less eternity for us to pass my house and escape from the watchful eyes of my family. but finally we were alone.

I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist in an iron-like clamp. I hugged him to me as if he was a part of me, resting my head against his strong chest. He stroked my hair and let his hand sit comfortably on the small of my back. This was right. He tilted my head so it faced him, holding my chin before kissing me. Our lips met softly, slowly parting to allow our tongues to weave in and out. We stood there, in front of Edna's house, in the shade of overgrown trees, holding each other. Eventually we stopped kissing, but his arm snaked around my waist, one hand firmly grasping mine as we walked slowly down the block towards the Cliff House. It was a landmark after all.

"What are you doing here?" I asked for the second time, my voice low and curious. He looked at me funnily, raising his eyebrows.

"You don't know?"

"Umm…no."

"Well, I came to visit you. I said I would. You didn't believe me?"

Well, um no I hadn't really believed him. And I definitely didn't think he'd come so soon.

"No I did!" I lied, "I just didn't think you'd be here, like, today."

"I missed you," he said simply, pulling me closer to him.

"I missed you, too," I answered truthfully, it was a little too true how much I'd missed him. The tenderness of the moment was getting a bit out of control, I really couldn't handle this level of sentimentality. "Let's go to the beach!"

"Alright, whatever you wanna do."

I tugged him down the hill towards Ocean Beach, the grey water churning and crashing on the cold shore. A flock of seagulls cried from the rocks, circling over the sandy expanse. The salt water tingled in the air, biting cold as it mixed with the misty fog from the morning.

"Jesus! It's fucking freezing!" Rob exclaimed, hunching his shoulders and rubbing my arms. "Aren't you cold? You don't have a jacket!"

"No, I'm used to this. Besides, it's warmer once you sit down," I assured him, though my skin was raised in goose bumps. I pulled him onto the beach, taking my flip flops off as we hoofed through the sand. Though the sky was grey and overcast, and air was dripping with cold, the sand was warm and delicious. It was dry and toasty as it covered my toes with each step. "See?"

Rob removed his shoes, gingerly setting a foot down in the beige mess. Surprise flashed across his face as the warmth spread around his feet.

"Yeah, that's kinda cool."

I nodded smugly and we trudged down the beach towards the sand dunes. Those were the best spots for sitting, they were higher than the rest of the beach—slightly elevated out of the wind. We snuggled down in a small dip between two dunes, burying our feet in the warm sand. I sat between his legs, letting him pull me inside his jacket as we sat and talked.

I told him about Stan and Genie's tearful goodbye, well—nearly tearful. He told me about his interview with MTV which was going to be aired for the next Twilight Tuesday. I told him about the creepy truck drivers in Half Moon Bay. He told me about the long line at security in LAX.

I was so happy to be back in his arms, I tried to not think about the possibility of him leaving. Of course he would have to, it was inevitable—but it felt so perfect and miraculous to be here with him. To be sitting at my favorite spot on my beach in my city near my house made it all finally real. Eventually our conversation dwindled, the pauses between comments grew longer until we were sitting in silence, watching the waves pound the shore. I leaned against him, his arms folded in front of me, his chin set on my shoulder. We were warm despite the chill and damp of the air.

"You should probably go and put something warmer on," Rob's voice rumbled through my body, breaking the calm quiet. He was right, a t-shirt and tights wasn't the most ideal outfit for the beach in the summer in San Francisco.

I laughed and stood up, making sure he stayed close to me as we strolled along the sandy beach, back up the steep hill to my house. My dad was calmly watching a recap of the Olympics in the kitchen, hardly noticing Rob and I slink back through the foyer. As we drew closer to my room, I remembered the bulletin board. SHIT! The horrifying assortment of pictures of him was front and center on my wall, completely impossible to miss. FUCK!! I hovered at my door, trying to think of a way to hide it.

"Um…do you want something to drink?" I asked him, my hand locked on the doorknob.

"No, I'm fine thanks," he breathed down on me. OH GOD! NO THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING.

"You sure? Nothing to eat or anything?" I wheedled.

"Yeah, I'm totally good."

FUCK. SHIT. FUCK. SHIT. FUCK. SHIT. AHHHH.

I racked my brain, trying to find a way to stop him from going into my room.

"Wait! You haven't met my sister!" I laughed in relief, guiding him away from my door to my sister's room. I knocked and called her name. Her door banged open, her eyes bugging in anger at me for interrupting whatever it was she was doing. And then she saw who stood next to me. Her expression morphed into frenetic excitement, a wild glint came into her eyes.

"Hi!" She squealed up at Rob. He smiled nervously and shook her hand.

"I'll be right back!" I exclaimed, rushing into my room to seize the moment of distraction. I lifted the bulletin board off the wall, shoving it under my bed, a few of the pictures fluttering to the ground, I crammed them under my pillow before sweeping the room one more time—combing it for any more embarrassing trinkets displaying my fangirldom. All clear. Crisis averted. Now what was I going to wear?

Ii hunted through my closet for my tightest jeans—the ones I allowed muffin top for because they clung so flatteringly to my legs. I smiled to myself as I tugged them on, throwing on a tight low-cut lacy tank top and a Northface. If anything, I knew how to dress for San Francisco. I knew what to wear for the fog and how to manipulate the clothing to look in my favor. I could have never gotten away with these jeans in L.A.—no shirt fit to make me look any better than an overstuffed pig. But paired with a poofy Northface, the small bulge at my jeans was taken for fleecy fabric. I beamed at my brilliance as I spritzed on perfume and added earrings. Ok, NOW I looked good.

"Do you want to see San Francisco?" I asked Rob, rescuing him from my sister's clutches. She'd had him sign all of the Twilight books, all my Harry Potters, and every pair of booty-shorts she could get her hands on. I frowned at the autographed mess surrounding him, Melanie hopping excitedly from foot to foot.

"Yeah! Show me your city!" He cried a little overenthusiastically, standing up from the pile of books. "Nice to meet you Melanie."

Mel waved goodbye as I led him from her room back to the kitchen.

"Hey Dad," I tentatively approached my father. He looked up and scowled at Rob before glancing at me. "Soo I'm just going to show Rob San Francisco a bit. Like, take him around—he's never been here before. Tell Mom, ok?"

If my dad had anything to say, we never heard it. Rob and I raced from my house out to the security of the empty street.

"Alright, so what do you wanna do?" I turned around and grabbed his hand, staring him straight in the eyes.

"Well…what do you normally do on days like today?" He pulled me closer.

"I don't know, just sorta hang out. We can go to Golden Gate Park and make fun of tourists?" I suggested, trying to remember what my life used to be like before him.

"Sure, as long as it's with you," he smiled, ruffling my hair.

"K wellll we're doing things MY way. So it's going to be some pretty major slumming…" I warned, nudging him forwards toward the bus stop.

He stared in mock horror at the little glass shelter. "NOT THE BUS!" He wailed.

I sadly nodded, handing him quarters for his fare before ascending the steps onto the Muni. He paid, the bus driver eyeing him from under her fake purple lashes.

"Do I know you?" She flipped her braids and jabbed an acrylic talon into his chest, smirking coquettishly.

"I-I don't think so," he stammered fearfully, holding his hand out for a transfer.

"Well, I WANT to know you, honey. Got a name?" she waved the transfer in his face but didn't relinquish it from her lilac claws.

"Um…my name's Robert," he offered, still patiently waiting for the thin slip of paper.

"Excuse me, can you just give him the transfer?" I asked irritably, glowering at the bus driver with a very Camilla-like stare.

She sighed and muttered something about just having fun before handing over Rob's transfer and starting the bus. It shuddered to life, growling and rumbling as we sat in the back, wedged into the far right corner. Rob put his arm around me, I think sheltering me from the hobo asleep in the other corner.

I'd decided I would walk him around Golden Gate Park, stopping at the Conservatory of Flowers and maybe the newly opened Academy of Sciences.

Rob kept his head down and face in the shadows as the bus slowly filled with people. At each stop he'd receive a few curious glances, but he went fairly unrecognized. We spilled off the crowded vehicle at 7th Avenue and Fulton, entering the Park from the Richmond side. We strolled through the lush green trees hand in hand, gabbing about this and that. We laughed and kissed and oohed and ahhed over the stunning colors at the Conservatory, the breathtaking flower arrangements in the front depicting a clock. He tickled me and wrested me to the ground at Speedway Meadows, trapping me beneath him as we rolled around the grass. We skipped the Academy of Sciences and its strange animal exhibits, opting to take pictures at the Japanese Tea Garden and ridiculing the cargo short-clad tourists. The wind billowed around us, fog creeping lazily over the tops of the trees, the mist in the air leaving tiny dewdrops on my hair. The cold was undeniable, even my fleece Northface didn't keep me sufficiently warm; damp air blowing through the fabric with each gust.

"Is there anywhere we can go to warm up?' Rob asked, huddling against me.

"Yeah, there's this cute café across the street." We inched our way over to Irving Street, a hotspot of restaurants and cafes. My favorite little café was called Bab's, and was quiet and understated and relatively unknown. It was the sort of place you could curl up on one of the worn, threadbare armchairs and read for hours with just a mug of steaming coffee. It had a stone fireplace in the back, always glowing with a roaring fire no matter what the weather, and a small assortment of odd coffee tables. The shop was staffed by an old Russian man and his wife who hired a hipster SF State student to work nights. The wooden door tinkled as we walked in, the loud hemming and hawing of the cappuccino machine greeting us. It was warm and cozy inside Bab's, a pleasant change from the frigid wind tunnel of Lincoln Way and 9th Avenue. I ordered a large coffee, adding only a dollop of whipped cream to the black liquid, while Rob bought a cup of tea—it was four o'clock. We settled down a springy couch, letting the heat from the crackling fireplace wash over us, warming us from the inside out.

We sat there comfortably for ages, his hand resting on my knee, my head nuzzled into his shoulder when the door opened again. A slew of young pierced people came rushing in, toting sound equipment and microphones. They set to work piecing together the electronics and speakers at the far end of the coffee shop as more and more people filtered in. Women and men, young and old began pouring into the café—all carrying instrument cases or folders of some sorts. I'd forgotten that Bab's hosted weekly music nights every Saturday. Each weekend, the café would fill with local artists who'd perform original songs or covers for the expensive fee of two dollars. I'd come once or twice with random friends, but it'd been a long time since I had been there for music night.

The little café was soon buzzing with people as the first groups of the night began to perform. A lovely trio of dapper old gents sang a snazzy ragtime, a twenty-something hippie played the banjo crooning a sad ballad about Vietnam, a serious looking Mexican man strummed a hyperbolic tune on his guitar. The diversity of performances was awe-inspiring, the pieces varied from singer/songwriters with acoustic harmonies to amped up garage bands screaming their angst away. Rob and I clapped and cheered along with the other spectators, taking in the organic art we were witnessing.

Suddenly, he whispered into my ear that he'd be right back and I was left alone on the shabby sofa. I sat by myself, pushed up against the end of the couch, my coffee drained as I scanned the crowded room for Rob. I couldn't see him anywhere among the mass of people and instruments. I hated sitting all alone in public, it made me feel like a loner; so I strode up to the counter and ordered myself another giant mug of coffee. The oh so enthused black clothed emcee announced the next performer, her words garbling over the rented sound system. I couldn't see the makeshift stage from where I stood, waiting for my drink, so I didn't see the good-looking man awkwardly walk over to a stool and perch on its edge. I heard a murmur echo through the crowd, but was engrossed in the wafting scent of Kona coffee to hear the nervous chuckle and quick disclaimer.

It wasn't until a husky voice, perfectly complimented by the ringing sounds of his guitar, floated through the room that I looked up. Rob sat on the stool, hunched over an aged guitar singing.

_You don't need to change a thing about you babe_

_I'm telling you, from where I sit, you're one of a kind_

_Relationships, I don't know why, they never work out and they make you cry_

_But the guy that says goodbye to you is out of his mind_

Rob looked up after each chorus, staring deeply into my eyes as he played. The song continued in it's sweet, simple manner. It was just the sort of music I played to fall asleep—the relaxing kind of song that made you smile and fall in love with the songwriter.

_Hell, enough about me and more about you, cause that'd be the gentlemanly thing to do_

_I hope you like your men sweet and polite_

_I thought I was done with telling you but I ain't nearly halfway through_

_I got a few more things I'd like to say to you tonight_

He held the last note, letting it hang a cappella in the riveted coffee shop for a few seconds before hopping of the little stage and handing the aged Mexican man his guitar. The room burst into tumultuous applause, thunderous claps and whoops and hollers lasting for several minutes as he made his way back to where I was sitting. I gazed at him in wonder, completely bowled over by his musical talent. His voice was so pristine, so raw, he had let the song take him over completely, let the artistry drip from his fingers as they plunked feeling out of the wooden instrument. I watched him shake hands and be patted on the back by strangers, willing him to break through the throng and be with me again. Finally a quartet of middle aged women took the stage and captivated the audience's attention, allowing Rob to squeeze past the last listeners and flop onto the sofa.

I crawled over to him, winding my arms around his neck to give him a big kiss. I hugged him close, the smile on my face never diminishing.

"That was incredible!" I mumbled into his shirt.

"Really? You think it went alright? I messed up the chorus a couple times…" he agonized, rubbing my back absentmindedly.

"Oh my god be quiet. It was SO GOOD! Who wrote that song?" I asked, suddenly aware I'd never heard it before.

"I did," he replied shyly, tilting his head away from me.

"You did?! That song is SO sweet! It has the most adorable melody, and the lyrics are so…" I struggled for the right words. "Natural. They make perfect sense."

He smiled widely, his eyes lighting up with my praise. "You really think that?"

I nodded fixing him with a sincere stare.

"You know, I wrote that song about someone…" he started, looking away again. My stomach did a somersault, a nervous shiver running down my spine.

"Did you? May I ask who that someone—," I tried to stay as calm and cool and collected as possible. On the outside, at least.

"You." He interrupted quickly, suddenly meeting my gaze. His hands gripped my shoulders as a sort of wild joy spread through me. It was as if I was on fire inside, a frothing happiness threatening to spill out. My eyes cringed and the biggest smile of my life spread across my face. I clambered into his lap, showering him with quick pecks as I held myself tightly to him. Rob Pattinson wrote ME a song! ME! A SONG!

My heart felt like it was going to burst as I tried to remember the lyrics. They were about a girl who mattered deeply to the singer, a girl who's every opinion and idea became his religion. A girl who was unique and beautiful and never seemed to get her fairy tale romance. But with the singer it was to be different; with the singer, the girl would one day understand his feelings for her and they would live happily ever after, never to be apart.

So I was supposed to be this compelling, magnificent girl? This girl who has enchanted the humble and modest singer? As in Rob? Ok. Works for me!

It was one of the sweetest songs I'd heard in a long time, and to find out that he had written it, for me (!) made him all the more perfect.

"When did you write it?" I asked him, nestling myself in his arms.

"Well…I kinda came up with the lyrics on the plane…and the tune was already in my head. But I hadn't actually played it until just now."

Whoa. So he's some sort of musical prodigy?

"Really? Like, that was basically on the fly?" I asked him, stunned by his ability.

"Yeah, pretty much. That's why it sort of sucked," he laughed, grimacing. His eyes turned serious and he held my face before him, both hands cupping my cheeks. "Audrey…I need to tell you something."

I gazed back into the twinkling green lakes, nodding slightly for him to continue.

"I'm pretty sure you feel differently. I cant believe I'm going to embarrass myself like this, but I have to say it," he rambled, gently rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone.

"What is it?" I asked, a little apprehensive. A tad worried. What needed to be said so urgently?

He took a deep breath, casting his eyes down on the fading print of the sofa. "Audrey, I think…." He swallowed, pausing again. WHAT WAS IT?!

"I think…I think I love you."

**A/N: Ok, so the song i used is called The Guy That Says Goodbye To You Is Out Of His Mind by Griffin House. I kinda tweaked what the song is about by omitting most of the lyrics, but the stuff i used is for real. It's a really CUTE SONG if you want to listen to it, it's kinda got a folksy vibe and is all mellow but it's ADORRRABLE!**

**ok ready set review! go!**


	20. The Call

**Sorry it took me forever!! But i figured i left it at kind of a nice little stopping point so i didnt really rush with this one... :**

**mmkayy! REVIEW! **

**OHHH and how about them gymnastics!? Nastia looked pissssssed hhhhahahha shawn was better though**

_Excuse me, I need to go die. _

WHAT?! This is a dream right? Like, an actual dream. Where I'm all asleep and everything. Yeah?

But as his dusky green eyes searched mine for a response—I knew it was real. I knew this was not some silly fantasy, some ridiculous concoction I had dreamt up to entertain myself. There was no denying the raw emotion in his eyes, the searing vulnerability; it wasn't quite something I would put in my daydream. Nor would I add the gnawing feeling in my stomach as I reached for something to say.

Of course, I'm pretty sure I knew what I WANTED to say, the obvious answer being "I love you, too." But I was worried. How would that sound, coming out of the mouth of a crazed fan? I would sound like a crazed fan. Wouldn't I? plus, did I actually LOVE him?

Sure, I was hopelessly attracted to him, and painfully aware of his every move, but was that love? I'm a real beginner with these things: my longest relationship with a man was with my dad. I just don't know what love is. Or how you know. I mean, how COULD I love him? Striking good looks, effortless charm and an unfathomable connection aside, how could I love him in the space of five days? Better yet, how could he love ME? What about me was so special it called for a song and a declaration of love?! I'm hardly the most beautiful woman, I'm more a less a nerd with a strong affinity for pink, sparkles and young adult literature, and it's not like I have some extraordinary talent. I cant sing, make music, paint dance, draw, or even cook in any ultra-wondrous way. I'm as plain and average as you get. So how on Earth could Rob Pattinson (the kind of movie star who girls send packages of condoms to on his birthday) love me? HOW?

But he did. And wasn't that kind all that mattered? It's not like there's any rhyme or reason behind Edward Cullen's deep love of Bella, it's just there. Was it the same way for us?

His eyes looked down, suddenly interested in the fading floral pattern of the couch. He was embarrassed, his cheeks flaming red as I realized that I'd taken quite some time in pondering the situation. He dropped his hands and placed them awkwardly on his legs, still avoiding my gaze. My heart went out to him, he looked so insecure, so exposed, so…

"Hey," I tried to look into his eyes, craning my neck down to meet his face, I tilted it up back to level with mine. " I think I love you, too."

The words came out softly and clearly, completely naturally—almost as if someone else was saying them. But they were true. There was no hint of falsity in my reply, not a shred of doubt. I was entirely sincere, more sincere than I thought I was.

A tiny flash of excitement crossed his face, illuminating into a smile. It started small—just the corners of his lips tugging upwards—but spread across his strong features, the flush on his face growing brighter. For the first time I felt like we were equal, that I belonged with him and him with me, not just me tagging along.

"You do?" his eyes scorched into mine, burning with the sort of intensity Stephenie Meyer likes to write about. God, he really was perfect to play Edward.

I smiled and nodded enthusiastically, flinging my arms around his neck to kiss him. I stayed in his lap, his arms tightly wound around me, as we giggled and bantered. We were kinda being disgusting actually—the sort of cute couple that makes you want to barf because they look so happy and into each other. I knew that's how we looked, but I didn't really care. Because I was so happy and into him.

The cheesy music performances continued in the little coffee shop, the night growing darker and darker, the traffic lights glowing brighter and brighter. My phone began to ring, rudely interrupting the harmonica player, so Rob and I crept outside to answer. Of course it was my mother, who else could it be?

"Audrey, it's ten o'clock. I haven't seen you since you ran off with that movie star this morning. WHERE ARE YOU AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"Oh! Sorry Mom! I just took Rob around Golden Gate Park and stuff…and we're at Bab's right now," I hurriedly told her the truth. It was almost too innocent.

"What is Bab's?" She snapped, not pleased.

"BAB's! You know? The cute coffee shop on Irving? It hosts these music nights once a week, and we happened to be in there for one so…that's what we've been doing."

"A music night?" my mom repeated back incredulously. "I don't hear any music, Audrey."

How was it that parents always had a way of making your name sound like an insult?

"That's because we stepped outside because it's rude to talk on the phone when someone's performing Mom," I explained, exasperated.

"Ok Audrey. Whatever you say…I want you home now. NOW. Do you hear me? As in, get on the bus this instant and come home, or you're going to have to tell your dad to get you."

"Yes, mom. I'm on my way…bye." I snapped the phone shut, rolling my eyes before sighing. My mother had this ridiculous problem with me being out at night, she absolutely hated the thought of me in the dark in the city, I guess. But despite all this, she refuses to pick me up at night time—I must venture the bus to get home…or I could call my father and ask him separately from my mother if he would please pick me up. It was actually the stupidest parenting since about the middle ages.

"You have to go home?" Rob mumbled, resting his chin on the top of my head.

"Yeah…um, do you have a place to stay?.." I snaked my fingers around his, clasping his hand tightly into mine.

"Yeah I already booked a room at that hotel near your house…the uhh…Seal Rock Inn?"

"Really? That place is kinda shitty. San Francisco has some way nicer hotels…" I trailed off, trying to envision Rob at the tourist trap motel around the corner from my house. It catered to the cargo-shorts and camera strap crowd that frequented the Cliff House.

"All the good hotels are far away from you. I did my research you know, I looked it all up on the plane ride up here."

"That tiresome hour-long ride?" I teased, fidgeting with his collar.

"Hey, it was just the right amount of time—I found the closest hotel to you didn't I?" he caught my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing my hand lightly. I sorta swooned. "So now that we've agreed that we're going the same direction, let's get you home."

He stepped out into the speeding lights of Lincoln Way, waving his arms wildly to flag down a taxi.

"Can we take the bus?" I asked him, pulling him back to safety out of the road of whizzing cars. He frowned at me, obviously curious as to why I would rather the smelly bus to a taxi. "The ride' s longer…"

He grinned in comprehension and swung his arm around my shoulder as I walked us to the bus stop. It finally wheezed into sight, spewing smog into the night air as we boarded the offensively lit vehicle. We huddled into our favorite backseat corner, Rob's jacket enveloping me as the bus lurched away. The best part about my house, though it was basically in hinterlands and nobody I cared for lived nearby, was that it was a block away from the end of the 38 bus line. It was comforting to know, that once I got on the 38, I never had to think about what stop to get off until the bus driver yelled wearily back at me, "end of the line." So it was nice, as I nestled up against Rob, his arms clutching me tight against him, that I didn't have to think about anything but him. I didn't have to worry myself with the landmarks flashing by, keep track of stop after stop—I could just sit there next to him, silently thinking about what was to come.

What was to come? It's not like he doesn't have a life in L.A. (or London for that matter) or a career or friends. And it's not like I'm going to even be in San Francisco for all that long—I'm leaving at the end of August. Seriously, are we actually going to try and make a long-distance relationship work out? Those never work out. And hardly one with the so-called "Next Jude Law" of England.

My incredibly annoying cell phone interrupted my thoughts, sending a shockwave through my ribcage from the vibration.

"Hello?" I muttered unenthusiastically.

"AUDREY!! OH MY GOD! GUESS WHAT!?" Genie's voice crackled over the bad reception.

"Oh, hey GeeGee…what?"

"You won't believe it! Guess who called me?? Just now!" I had a faint inkling who it could be, just a teeny tiny faint inkling.

"I don't know…who?'

"STAN!! He called me! And we talked for like, TWO HOURS! Well, actually I think it was me talking most of the time, but that doesn't matter! HE called ME!" Her excitement gushed through the phone. I looked up at Rob and he laughed.

"That's GREAT!!" I responded with as much gusto as I could muster. "But hey guess who came to see me?"

"OH MY GOD. NO. HE DIDN'T. DID HE? NOO!" Genie rambled to herself on the phone. "Oh wait, I bet Chase came. Chase did huh?"

I rolled my eyes, what was with her and thinking Chase was suddenly into me? But I felt Rob tense, his hands froze around my shoulders, a tight look crossed his face. Uh oh.

"NO! Eww…why would he come and see me? NOT CHASE," I sputtered into the cell,

"WAIT. Are you for real? Rob didn't ACTUALLY come up here did he? Aud, it's been like, A DAY!"

I smiled to myself, pleased that she saw how quickly he'd made it up to visit me.

"HE ACTUALLY DID! I'm with him right now!" I squeaked, glancing up at Rob with a cute smile. I faltered, his face was still hard and unhappy as he stared out the window.

"REALLY!? AWW! AUD!! Tell him I say HI! K, I'll stop being a third wheel on the phone, now! Call me though you ho!" She disconnected before I could say goodbye, leaving me speechless as I stared at Rob in bewilderment.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He asked me suddenly, looking straight into my eyes.

"NO!" I laughed, completely lost. "Well…I mean, besides youuu."

He stared at me, still unsmiling. "So who's Chase?"

I raised an eyebrow, gazing at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding? Chase is this kid that I kinda liked a couple months ago. And I think he liked me, but nothing ever came of it," I tried to explain as quickly and casually as possible.

Rob nodded, "So, do you still…like, him?"

"Ugh no! He's a flake. Plus he's one of those guys who are always trying to be cool…trying to get in with the party crowd even though he's just not one of them…he's ridiculous."

Rob seemed to like my answer, the cold look on his face defrosting slightly.

"Rob…are you…jealous?" I asked him flirtatiously, wrinkling my nose.

He scowled, looking away again. "No."

"Alrighty, just checking." Inside, my heart soared. There was nothing better than making a guy jealous—such a true validation. And I had just made Rob Pattinson jealous. And he loved me. And he traveled 500 miles to visit me after just 12 hours apart. This day is great.

My phone began to ring again, but I wasn't really in the mood—all these damn phone calls keep messing with the romantic ambience. I ignored the call, ignoring the caller I.D. in the process and switched my phone on silent.

The bus emptied as we neared our destination; ancient Russian grandmas tottering off one by one, sketchy creepers in giant sweatshirts with suspicious bundles disembarking with furtive glances, crusty old drunk men stumbling down the stairs into the night. This is why I don't like the bus at night. By myself at least. All too soon the bus turned it's familiar corner and rumbled to a stop. The bus driver called back to us impatiently, "end of the line!" and it was time to go. We strolled slowly down my block, prolonging our time together before we were to go our separate ways. He kissed me goodbye on my front steps and walked away backwards, whispering "I love you," back to me. A strange squeeze in my chest prevented words from leaving my lips and by the time I could breathe again, he was out of sight—swallowed up by the darkened mist.

"HELLO! I'm HOME!" I shouted into my house as the garage door slammed behind me. Distant responses echoed from every corner of my house as I trudged up the stairs to toss my bag in my room.

"I'm in here, Audrey. I need to talk to you. NOW," my mother yelled from her room, demanding my presence immediately.

"Yes…" I stood at her door, my hands placed on my hips. Eek, immediate defiance—maybe I should tone it down.

"Cut the attitude, first of all. We need to discuss this picture debacle," she stared at me intently, a murderous look in her eyes.

"Well, it wasn't quite a debacle, mom. Just like, a picture on Perez that no one cares about anymore. It was DAYS ago."

"That's not really the issue. WELL yes, it IS an issue because your promiscuous picture is all the place—how do you think that makes ME look? But more importantly, WHY WERE YOU EVEN DOING THAT?"

"Doing what?"

"you know what I'm talking about, Audrey. Being all…" my mother struggled to find the most modern way to insult me. "…well, trampy!"

"I wasn't being 'trampy,' Mom."

"You certainly were! You had your hands all over that boy, and you were practically naked. In the street!"

"I wasn't NAKED!"

"You were wearing a shirt I've never seen before, and I would never have bought you—it's way too low cut. you were falling out of it, and your shorts were undone and slipping off your body!"

"I bought the shirt when I was there. It's really cute, it was just falling down a little." I tried to distract her realizing there was no way to deny that my clothes were coming off…

"And where did you get the money for that? Did this Roger Patterson buy it for you? ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH HIM?' Her questions grew louder and more hysterical. Good god.

"No, mom. I am not sleeping with him. And his name is ROBERT. PATTINSON. By the way. You know who he is, stop pretending you don't. and he didn't buy me the shirt, I did!"

"You told me a few days ago that it was a dare, that you just randomly went up to him and threw yourself on him. WHAT one EARTH possessed you to do that?"

"Well, since it was a dare…" I rolled my eyes, exasperated and really over the interrogation session.

"I thought you were responsible, you don't know what sort of diseases he could have! You don't just go kissing strangers!"

"GOD MOM. It was a KISS!"

"If it was just a kiss how come he showed up here looking for you?"

"Because we hung out with Genie and…um…Renaldo one day. Like, he asked for my number and wanted to chill with us. He's really cool…" I grasped at straws for a reasonable story. It worked, right?

" Right. Right. Ok. By the way, you're going to be doing some more choice around the house here missy."

My head spun at the sudden change in subject. I swear my mom's on crack. "Umm…ok."

"You will be! Just because I let you run off all day today without asking any questions at all doesn't mean you will be making a habit of it. You're going to be spending more time at home helping out."

Jesus, what the hell is she smoking? It was like I was back in sixth grade when she was just starting to discover how my use of San Francisco Municipal Transportation could improve her life.

"Ok, mom."

"You should go to bed now, Audrey—it's nearly 11!"

"Ok, mom."

"I don't want you sleeping in 'til noon again…like I said, you're going to be doing more around the house this summer."

"Ok, mom."

"Did you have dinner by the way?"

"Ok mom…I mean, yeah I did. I had…um…pasta on Irving," I quickly lied. I knew that if I had told her that I hadn't had dinner it would begin a whole new one sided Q&A on eating habits. "ok, goodnight mom."

Aiya. I slumped out of my parents' room, exhausted by mother's tedious nagging. All she ever seemed to do was point out what I was doing wrong and then tell me what I should do to fix it. It was getting tiresome.

I quickly changed into my pajamas before running to my desk to turn on my computer. I hadn't checked my Facebook in about a week. Hopefully SOMEONE wrote on my wall during my five-day absence. I drummed my fingers against the wooden table, impatiently waiting for my internet to finally connect and load. Finally, the dusky blue panels and columns appeared on the computer screen, my Facebook homepage slowly materialized. My mouth dropped as I read the number of notifications waiting for me on the right corner: 78 notifications. OH SHIT. About ten were picture tags from Genie but the other 68 were ALL wall posts…from DIFFERENT PEOPLE.

I scanned my profile, reading each comment—it was like my texts all over again. My inbox had 19 new messages which I didn't even bother to read, I knew they would all be along the same lines of: "AUDREY! IS THIS FOR REAL!?"

I decided I would wait until the next time I saw most of these people to explain my life to them, it just sounded silly in writing. I tied my hair back into a lopsided bun, deciding that I felt like sleeping and dreaming of Rob rather than worrying about what to say to everyone. My green lava lamp on and ipod at the ready by my pillow, I plucked my phone from my purse to text Rob goodnight. I switched it on, reading three missed calls from Natasha. Not her again.

"Sleep tight! xoxoxoxoxoxo" I punched the numbers into the little black device, selecting "Rob!!" from my phonebook. It was still highly unreal that his number sat in my phone, right between Ratatouilletimes! (I guess they were the times Ratatouille was playing…?) and Sindy (some of the kids at my school have seriously misspelled names. I don't know why.) Not a second after the teeny phone flashed "Message Sent" along an orange checkmark, it began to light up again, this time displaying the words: Natasha R.

"Hello?" I answered tentatively, I'm pretty sure the only time we've talked on the phone was when my friend Sonya was yakking in a bathroom and Natasha was with her, and I called Sonya. And I don't remember that conversation very well.

"Audrey? Hey! It's Natasha!"

"Hey! Umm, what's up?" I grimaced at myself in the mirror.

"Wellll, this is going to sound totally weird but I think I saw a picture of you on Perez Hilton."

WELL DUH

"Yeah, that's me…" I admitted, waiting for there to be more. There had to be more, she had called maybe three thousand billion trillion times.

"Really!? With Rob Pattinson?!"

"Yeah."

"Oh well, cool." She talked haltingly into the phone. That was it?

"Mm hmm, it was really random and stuff," I wasn't quite sure what to say to "cool." Officially time to end this awkward fest. "Hey, umm I kinda have to go…I'll talk to-"

"Hey Audrey, wait. I wanted to talk to you about him. Rob, I mean," she said in a rush before I hung up.

"Umm ok," I replied expectantly. What could Natasha want to talk about Rob for?

"Ok, so you're probably not going to believe me…but last year, when I went down to Laguna Beach with Chris, Shannon and Nate, we went to this club in L.A." Natasha started her story. I remembered that trip, her random week of missing school and going to Nate Puidmoore's beach house down south. Nate, Chris and Shannon were all seniors then, and Natasha was the lone junior who was legitimately considered part of that group of friends. The four of them had seized the opportunity when all of their parents were out of town, and made an impromptu trip to Laguna Beach.

"and like, Shannon and I got a little tipsy, you know? And anyways we were hooking up with all these guys, but there was this one really really really cute guy who was there. And he looked super familiar to me, but I didn't know who he was. Turns out, it was Rob."

My ears were tricking me, right? Natasha wasn't trying to tell me that she'd hooked up with Rob, right? RIGHT?

"Oh…so you hooked up with Rob?" I couldn't help myself.

"Yeah, Shannon and I kinda both did. We actually got into a huge fight about it later, but that's not really why I'm telling you."

"Ok, so why are you telling me?" I could hear the bitter edge in my voice, but I hoped it didn't relay across the phone.

"Well…basically, I was just calling to talk to you about it. I mean, not very many people we know have met him. How was it for you?"

OK, so Natasha's just strange. First of all, why didn't she ever tell anyone she had hooked up with him? Like, that's definitely news to spread. And why hadn't Shannon?

"Well, it was good. But um…why didn't you or Shannon ever tell anyone? That's like, kind of a big deal."

"Oh, well we made this pact. Because like, Nate and Chris did some really stupid shit that night, so we decided to not talk about that night EVER to ANYONE. Except, I broke the pact because, like, well….I don't know…"

Wow, Natasha was ridiculous. There really is no substance to her. Did she actually call me to tell me that she hooked up with Rob. And she wanted to talk details? There had to be more to this.

I tried to put the sharp jealousy I felt in a box, far far far away. I mean, I really had no reason to be jealous of Natasha Rustjek. She's referring to a time and a place completely unrelated to me. Rob probably wouldn't even remember her. He wouldn't. she's totally forgettable. Completely and utterly vacuous. One hundred percent.

"Alright. Well, that's kinda crazy that we've both made out with Rob Pattinson…" I was at a bit of a loss to continue the conversation.

"Well…I did more than just make out with him…" Natasha's voice trilled. My stomach clenched, I was pissed. I should probably just tell her right now that him and I are going out. But I don't think she'd believe me.

"Oh?"

"Yeahh…he took me back to his place. And like, we…you know? And it got hella awkward because that girl from When A Stranger Calls was there. But like, he's a really nice guy."

"Um…yeah, he is."

"Like, I gave him my number and he like, totally called me and stuff!"

"Oh, that's great."

"Like, we still talk. Off and on, of course. But like, he texts me or calls me to see if I'm planning on going down there anytime soon…He'll probably want to talk to you again, too. He's just one of those guys."

"Yeah, seemed like it."

"Don't you just LOVE his British accent?"

"Yup."

"Doesn't he have like, the craziest eyes EVER?!"

"Mm Hmm"

"He's so great. He's so down to earth for getting so famous all of a sudden."

"Sure."

"Like, he's going to be in this weird-ass vampire movie. But apparently he's going to be this really really fucking sexyyy vampire."

"Yeah, I heard."

"But Rob's really great about keeping in touch."

"That's nice."

"Like, he just called me a couple days ago!"

"Awesome. Hey, I actually really gotta go. I'll talk to you later?"

"Fasho! We NEED to catch up! Bye GIRL!"

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my lips drawn in a tight line. My jaw was locked, my eyes stone cold. Wow, I looked really badass. Really really pissed. Natasha Rutjek hooked up with Rob. Ok, I can handle it. And they had sex. Alright., I can deal. I can. Like, this was forever ago. Like, a year or something. But he still talked to her? Like, she'd go down to L.A. and be his fuck-buddy? Ok, so I kinda already knew he was sleazy. I mean, OF COURSE he's going to take advantage of girls fawning over him. All that mattered was that I meant something to him more than those girls did. I did, right? He told me he loved me. And it's not like he said that to get in my pants…we'd already boned. So why else would he say that without meaning it? I don't think he didn't mean it. I think he meant it. Whatever, so he and Natasha Rustjek—of all people—used to do stuff together. There were probably others too, yeah? And it's not like he's talking to her NOW. She said the last time he called her was a couple days ago. Wait. As in, TWO days ago? As in, one of the days I was most definitely WITH him? Like, the day the picture came out? And he asked me to be his girlfriend? And we went to meet his publicist. And then we went to Stan's house. And I got super drunk and barfed right after Genie's story. That was a couple days ago.

_HOLD ON. WHAT THE FUCK?..._


	21. The End

I tried to get comfortable, pulling my covers tighter around me. I tossed and I turned. I tried sleeping on my stomach. I tried sleeping on my side. I tried sleeping with my hands clasped on my chest. I tried counting sheep. I tried counting backwards from 10,000. I tried and tried to fall asleep, letting my eyes stare unseeingly up at my ceiling. Squeezing them shut to force drowsiness. Nothing worked. I knew after my 104 song sleep playlist finished its loop that it was hopeless. I just was not going to sleep tonight. I threw the blankets off of me and strode into the kitchen to heat up tea. It was 3 in the morning. I had been trying to sleep for 2 ½ hours.

As the water in the electric tea kettle boiled and churned, issuing steam into the dark kitchen, my thoughts ran a mile a minute. I forced myself to think of other things, like what my dorm was going to look like, and what I was going to wear tomorrow, and what color I could paint my room next week, and how the exchange rate would work out if I went to Russia, and what I was going to get my mom for her birthday, and what my high school GPA could have been if I hadn't taken AP statistics, and how much money I had in the bank, and what my yearly interest was, and what I should make for breakfast, and how I could get a job, and what was my favorite animal, and what was the exact difference between a cappuccino and a latté, and what were the seven horcruxes in Harry Potter—oh shit. Harry Potter…

Ok, what was the perfect way to make a soufflé, and what was my most favorite scent on Earth, and what part of the United States had the least amount of sun—oh shit, Twilight.

Alright, who could drink the most out of anyone I know—oh shit, Natasha.

The more and more I tried to fill my head with random thoughts that couldn't pertain to Rob, the more and more they seemed to pertain to Rob. Everything I thought about i could link back to him. Every single little thought had a little thread that wove through the cluttered recesses of my mind and found its way to him. It was maddening, try as I might; I just couldn't ignore the giant bomb Natasha had dropped on me.

I mean, so what Rob talked to her. Right? It's not like he cant talk to other girls, it's not like I'm some possessive over-protective girlfriend, I'm hardly his girlfriend. Like what have I actually got to worry about? Nothing! Sure, they're just friends who like to fuck, but they haven't done that recently…just talked. On the phone. Not even in person. I rationalized and justified and did my very best to be mature about this. I told myself as I poured a massive mug of tea that if I was going to think about it, I was going to think about it calmly. I was going to stay calm. And calmly reason to myself. Staying calm. Calm. I was not going to start hating Natasha all over again for a new reason. I was not going to let the bitter jealousy absorb me. I was not going to jump to conclusions. And who's to say they even hang out all that often? From what it sounded it like, it seems like Rob calls her when he's bored. And very intermittently. Each visit few and far in between. She was definitely exaggerating. Definitely. Well, who wouldn't? I would. Yeah, Natasha was completely exaggerating because she didn't want to sound like a loser. OF COURSE. My pseudo-calm started to actually settle into a half-pseudo calm. And as I nibbled on the third oatmeal cookie—after rapaciously gobbling the first two during my nice and calm rationalization session—my mind gradually wandered to other topics about Rob not involving Natasha. Each sip of Trader Joe's finest blueberry green tea took me farther and farther away from the nervous tizzy I had sent myself into, my brain's hyperactivity ebbing.

I sat in the dark, breathing deeply, training my thoughts on Rob. Just Rob. Rob sitting awkwardly in my living room with my parents. Rob staring at me so affectionately as I had walked into the room. Rob snatching my hand as we ambled down the boardwalk. Rob squinting in the white bright fog, smiling slightly as I looked at him. Rob wrapping me up in his giant black jacket on the sand dunes. Rob reading the little information card about the new architecture of the De Young museum. Rob following me through the green foliage of Golden Gate Park's secret paths. Rob carrying over two foaming mugs of coffee, the hot brown liquid spilling over the side, slightly scorching his hand. Rob perched on the stool, his voice filling up the coffee shop as he strummed away on his guitar. Rob tugging me on to his lap and nervously telling me he wrote me a song. Rob blushing as I waited too long to tell him I loved him, too. Rob heavy lidded eyes, bugging with excitement as he talked. Rob's dark eyebrows, furrowing as I teased him. Rob's coppery hair sticking in all crazy directions. Rob's lips parting and breathing on to mine as we leaned in to each other. Rob. Rob. Rob. Rob.

My hands cupped the tea mug as I stared dreamily at the unlit wall light. I could feel the clutches of exhaustion finally getting ahold of me, finally pleading me to go to sleep. I stumbled dazedly back to my room, falling into bed as I kept flashing on pretty much every moment I'd spent with him. Every single second I'd been with him was etched into my memory, in perfect clarity and detail. Every touch, every whisper, every smile—all of it so genuine and true. There was absolutely nothing to be worried about. Absolutely nothing to fret over. Absolutely nothing. Natasha? It's whatevaa.

The grey morning light dingily illuminated the kitchen I had sat in just hours before. Despite finally falling asleep at four in the morning, I somehow managed to spring out of bed at 8 am. I was showered and dressed by 8:30. Caffeinated and fed by 8:45. Aimlessly sitting and waiting at my kitchen table by 8:50. My family wasn't even awake; my dad's snores still rumbled down the stairwell, my sister's room so dead-silent you could almost hear the dust settling on her bookshelves. My dog wasn't even up, still lounging lazily on her bed in the hallway.

It was Sunday. And Sunday, in my house, is the day of rest. Of course to my mom, this meant sleeping in until an astonishingly late 9:30! To my dad it meant blaring the obnoxious CarTalk Radio show he incomprehensibly loved. To my sister it meant a day of no make-up, no shower, and no social interaction. To me it meant being stuck in my house for quality family time.

But not this Sunday. Oh no, this Sunday…I will most definitely not stay in my house. My foot tapped against the chair leg, my fingers tinkered an unknown tune on table-top, my eyes darted from the news to the comics to the placid pot of coffee on the counter. I stared the clock down, waiting for it to finally tick to a time the wouldn't be so offensively early for a lazy Sunday morning. For a time suitable to nip over to the Seal Rock Inn and wake up a certain someone.

8:51…I looked over this week's Bizarro. Ugh, not funny.

8:51:30…I glanced at the new Sherman's Lagoon. Eh, not that bad.

8:55…I finished the article in the New York Times about the disappearance of fine restaurants in urban cities. Uhh, not true-what a waste of ink.

8:56…I checked my nails for any breaks. None.

I couldn't take it anymore. I scribbled a small nonsense note about going jogging and left it on top of the coffee pot so someone would be sure to see it before grabbing my keys and dashing out of my house. The fog swirled around me as I stalked over to the touristy motel around the corner.

I sauntered into the musty lobby of the Seal Rock Inn, walking straight up to the nearly empty dining room to find Andrew. Andrew was the manager of the hotel. Him and I were buds. Well, actually, him and my dad were buds. But because my dad had brought me there on Wednesday afternoons in the summertime for the French onion soup special ever since I was able to eat, Andrew and I were basically buds, too. I scanned the room, smiling quickly at the aged waitresses who worked there every single day without fail. i was fairly certain those women actually lived at the restaurant.

Finally, I saw Andrew bustle out of the kitchen with two plates of omelettes.

"Audrey! How are you? I'll be right back!" He called at me, hurrying to a table to deliver the breakfasts.

"Hey Andrew. Ummm….so I was wondering if you could do me a favor." I hugged him, waiting for his response before launching into my one hundred percent true but nine hundred percent unbelievable story. "…So basically, can I have his room number?"

Andrew stared at me in disbelief, his bushy grey eyebrows knit together as he tried to figure me out.

"Are you pulling my leg, Aud?"

"Nope. Seriously, I'm not even joking. So please please pleaseee can I have his room number?! I just want to surprise him!"

"I don't know, it's really techinically illegal. And he is a big movie star…we never get guys like him, here." He fretted, trying to convince me to go back home and make my family breakfast by offering me a bag of croissants.

"No, TRUST ME, he wont complain! I promise! Andrew, pleeasee?" I wheedled, pushing the paper sack of pastries back into Andrew's hands.

His shoulders sagged as he thew his hands in the air and shook his head before turning around to the concierge desk. I skipped and clapped as he ran his stubby finger down a list.

"205. Now don't tell ANYONE I told you. This is like, the cardinal sin of inn keeping by the way, my dear! And it's the second door on your right on the second floor." He hissed at me, handing me the spare key to the room as I flashed him a grin and flounced out of the lobby to the elevators.

I expelled every thought I had agonized over the night before, shoving all my insecurities and worries about Natasha and Rob under a rug in my mind. The elevator clanged my arrival at the second floor, the narrow hallway spanned before. I strode the second door on the right, not even glancing at the number as I fitted the key in and swung open the door,

The room had a window facing the ocean, but it was covered in thick heavy drapes, obscuring the morning haze and darkening the room. I could see a lump in one of the beds, blankets and covers heaped on top of an unrecognizable figure. I crept up to the bed, fixing one hand on the lamp shade as I prepared myself to leap onto the bed. Count backwards from five…5…4…3…2…

"AARRGHH!!" the light flickered on before I oven touched it, brightening the room in a blinding yellow, neon spots cluttered my sight. But as my vision cleared, I found myself face-to-face with snarling middle aged woman. Her ruddy cheeks were apples of rage, her beady eyes narrowed in an incredulous glare, her thin lips pulled back over crooked teeth in a sneer. She stared at me in contempt, her face lividly evaluating mine.

"OH!! I'm SOO sorry! I think I have the wrong room…" I cried, pulling away from the purpley blotchiness.

"Who the FUCK are you!? GET OUT!" She bellowed at me in a Brooklyn accent, her eye mask pushed up on her forehead.

I nodded and backed out of the room as radpidly as I could, smiling politely as I wrenched the dooor shut. I looked at the number, 203. Of course.

I stood somewhat apprehensively outside the white-painted 205 door. The gold appliquéd numbers were peeling, air bubbles and cracks finding their way to the surface as well.

Eventually, I summoned the courage to head into the room...

**a/n: ok so this is it. honestly, i dont have the time nor motivation to finish this story. sorry. it's really shady of me because i haven't even finished THIS chapter and it took me like two weeks to even get this far. but i really don't have time to be writing this right now, nor do i really want to. my twilight/rob obsessioon kinda ebbed once i remembered i need to get into college and do my college apps and get good grades. plus i'm ungrounded now so i'm actually going out on the weekends. WHOOHOO!**

**ok so apologies. but really, no more of this. the story's finished. i gues**s **i could post a summary of the rest of the plot but i dont think anyone even reads this anymore.** **so let me know if you want it because i'll put it up. i'm not going to actually write anymore chapters, its not like im a good writer anyway but i dont have the patience to type out like five or six more chapters so i'd basically put up a bullet point plot line. hahah i'm so lazy**

**SORRY! LOVE YOU! **

**Ava**

**oh. p.s. how much do i hate RUSSELL BRAND for stealing Rob's limelight at the VMA's. i had no idea twilight was coming and then i got really pumped when they annoounced they were next and then i sat through awkward kristin, pre-pubescent sharkboy and sexyyyyyy volchek and but as soon as Rob started talking Russel interrupted him! alkdsjflsdjfl ughhhhhh**


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